


Fugue State

by tzigane, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Series: Love Crumpet [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blackmail, Codependency, Coercion, Collars, Comfort Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dysfunctional Family, Escape, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Ownership, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, struggling to cope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21589060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: There were two hundred and six bones in the human body. Thirteen major organ systems. Seventy-eight organs, and a variety of bits and bobs that all amounted to Jim spending hours thinking of nothing but ways to break Mycroft Holmes down piece by piece by piece while keeping him alive for as long as possible.He had not yet managed to secure a way to keep him from bleeding out entirely, of course, and the bones of the inner ear were too close to the brain for him to conveniently stab about in there in an attempt to pulverise them, but he could always save that to the absolute last.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Jim Moriarty, Mycroft Holmes/Sebastian Moran, Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Series: Love Crumpet [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/36851
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	Fugue State

Changing the rules didn't mean that there weren't rules to be followed.

Sherlock's techniques were something that had their use. He had spent another two weeks afterwards watching bits of Sherlock through the CCTV, watching how he steered and controlled without seeming to, how he impressed his will on Watson. It was easier with only one pet, when it was unnecessary to consider the cascading effects that an action taken on one would have on the other.

Sometimes, though he suspected that it made things better. He was going to put a metaphorical boot in Moriarty's back, and he was going to do it without having to lay a hand on him.

He'd managed to come back from an extraordinarily long day in the office. Dinner had been excellent, and his two reliable fucktoys were naked and lounging in front of the fire. Sebastian's skin seemed to soak up the light, while Jim's skin reflected it, lying on his stomach half atop the other man. Lovely tight arse, even after everything Mycroft had shoved up it. 

"Jimmy. Go and fetch the toybox, would you?"

The stillness that came over him was just lovely. How amusing, that Moriarty would be under the impression that it would be him this evening. "Must I?" The offhanded manner in which he spoke seemed unconcerned. Such a lie, and it didn't matter that they didn't know his plans. Moran clearly thought he did, his arm wrapping around Moriarty soothingly.

"Yes." He set his glass of brandy aside, and folded his fingers together. "Now."

The trailing length of Moran's fingers against pale spine was lovely, a caress meant to be soothing and make him feel better, clearly. Yes, he was going to enjoy this immensely.

Mycroft waited for Moriarty to stand up, waited until he was padding naked out into the hallway to no end of amusement for Mycroft's guards. He finished his brandy, and started to take off his necktie. "You know, half the fun is sending him on these little trips. Such a firebrand. On occasion, I do miss his outbursts. That is the reason I first decided to keep him, you know."

"I actually haven't asked 'why' for a reason." Sebastian didn't move from his place on the floor, but his eyes were open.

Ha. "Oh?" Mycroft allowed a tiny smile to creep over his face. "And that reason is?" It was so much fun. He knew full well the reason why he didn't ask, and that was also quite fun.

"Because I don't care. This is some extended revenge fantasy of yours, and it isn't as if we've chosen to be here." He rubbed fingers on his own chest, and began to sit up.

Lovely sight, it honestly was. All pale gold skin, split by the occasional scar, and it made him quite delighted just to see it. "All true, although I must say it is less by way of revenge fantasy and more particularly a desire to keep the two of you out of trouble."

"This is keeping us out of trouble?" Sebastian laughed, and rubbed at his neck. He was moving to get out of the way, Mycroft could tell, to yield to the showpiece that was Jim. "How altruistic."

Mycroft couldn't help the way he smiled. He knew it was perhaps a bit nasty, but then, sometimes he was. "Clearly this is nothing more than prudence. Altruism would be stretching things a bit far, don't you think?"

"There's nothing prudent about that toy box." He got up then, stretching and watching Mycroft as he shifted off his suit jacket. Now it was just a matter of whether to break it to Sebastian before or after Jim returned.

"Nothing whatsoever." Sebastian was gorgeous as ever, and he tilted his head to the side. "No. Nothing prudent about it at all. I am going to enjoy you this evening, all on your own. I do think your darling lord and master will quite enjoy the sight, don't you?"

He folded his arms over his chest, and it really did nothing to ruin the picture. If anything, it made a nice juxtaposition with the man's wide shoulders, narrow hips, and nicely sizeable flaccid penis. "He'll go through the roof. And that's what you want, isn't it?"

Oh yes. Yes, that was quite enjoyable, but he simply continued to watch Sebastian with the same smile as before. "I never do seem to play with you alone while he watches, whereas the converse does seem to occur with a greater frequency. I thought perhaps it was time to change things up a bit."

"I do prefer topping." But other than that, perhaps the man was just going to continue with his very studied compliance. It was hard to guess, and he turned his head sharply when Jim returned, carrying the carefully arranged storage box Mycroft used.

The look on his face was fantastic, a well-stoked fury somewhere just behind his eyes, and that was going to overflow when he realised exactly what was happening. "Bring it here, Jimmy."

The blanch of his face was quite delightful. "I loathe you."

Yes, yes. He cared so much.

"Mmm. Yes. Open the box and choose... Six things." That would give him leeway. He didn't look at Moran, studying Jim intensely instead. "One of them should be lubricant, but I leave that up to you."

Six things and leeway to make choices. He did so enjoy it when they were adorably frustrated. James pored over the items slowly, considering the matter with a serious mien. Sherlock's ways were not his, although certainly efficacious. Moriarty knew better than to choose the smallest, least interesting items entirely. He knew that he would be punished for it if he did, or suspected he might, and all of that extra mental acuity the man had went for funny twisted up over-thinking like that.

Amusing to no end, but watching him carefully choose was part of the fun. Mycroft had no idea what he had done before he had such adorable pets. He supposed he'd spent a great deal more time watching the news at night, a rehash of information he already had. Much better to watch Jim fret his way through the box, turning things over and over again as though it would do him any good at all. The things he laid out were not out of place with what Mycroft would want, precisely; silicon lube, a glass sound, twisted glass dildo. Nipple clamps, and it was just so charming to see him think that deeply about something which was not his criminal web or getting away from Mycroft.

He picked his restraints with care, the thick leather lined with soft suede. "One more. Quickly now." The added press of time would shake Jim a little, though he'd probably react just as fast. The quick motion of one hand brought out a cock ring and held it up between two fingers.

"Does that suit you?"

"Excellent." He moved toward Jim, taking the restraints in hand first. "Sit down."

He didn't even steel himself; just shifted, all languid grace, smirk on his face, watching Mycroft move. "Of course."

He felt he knew what was coming, and that was lovely. He held his wrists out for Mycroft and the cuffs were put on firmly, gently. He tightened them well, and took his time securing him to the chair. "Comfortable?"

"Yes." Oh, yes, and eying him with a vast suspicion considering the fact that he was safely seated. It was altogether possible that he would be moved, but it was unusual for him to find himself that way. "Not for long, I'm sure."

"No, no, quite right. Settle down." He smiled as he tilted his head, looking to Sebastian. "Undress me, Sebastian."

He was still standing by the fire, and seemed to hesitate before coming into motion. His fingers didn't hesitate on the shirt buttons. It had long since been clear that he was well-accustomed to taking orders without flinching. This was in no way different; he obeyed, and Mycroft could see the colour rising in Moriarty's face, fury and a trembling that shuddered all the way through him.

Oh, this was fantastic.

He didn't interrupt when Sebastian pushed his shirt off of his shoulders, nor when he knelt down to start unfastening his belt. He threaded his fingers through the man's hair, and smiled sharply at Jim. "I thought I'd change things up tonight."

Brilliant hatred, hot and sharp and angry, and Sebastian was glancing his way as though for reassurance or perhaps some signal as to what he should do.

"Don't look at him." Mycroft allowed his voice to sharpen, razor keen. "You look at me. Do you understand?"

He exhaled hard, an angry huff as he turned to stare hard at Mycroft again. "I understand." It was going to be hard for Sebastian, who looked to Jim constantly, little checks and communications that carried on with the ease of longtime partners. He started on the buttons, hands slow and certain, and Mycroft looked over at Moriarty. He was clearly eating out his own liver already.

Excellent.

He closed his eyes and slid his hands down. His motions were all quite perfunctory, but Sebastian had never been one for show and seduction. Mycroft stepped out of his trousers and pants, and had Sebastian move with a touch on his chin. "Kneel in front of your Jimmy, Sebastian. But keep your eyes on me."

He could practically see the threat in Moriarty's eyes, but Moran's eyes showed absolutely nothing; just knelt as ordered and kept watching him.

"Excellent." He picked up the clips, circling near to Jim, eyes on Sebastian alone, and knelt down to be on level with him before he reached out to tweak one nipple. Sebastian gave a firm exhalation.

"I'm going to kill you," Moriarty offered conversationally. "After I have tortured you for days, and killed everything you ever loved. Or even liked. Or perhaps bought tea from on a train."

"Threats and fantasies, Jimmy. I've fucked Sebastian here quite a few times -- do you know what really breaks him down?" He wasn't going to make it rhetorical, he was going to force the man to interact with him. While he twisted Jim's pet's nipples to hardness, the man's dick started to harden. "I do hope so, given the lengths he went to and failed at trying to get you free."

Moriarty's voice was low and dark, only a vague hum by way of answer. His gaze was locked on Sebastian instead, and it didn't surprise him that he said nothing else. It did surprise Mycroft when he shifted, relaxed, and smiled.

That was interesting. "I'd like an answer." He reached down, put the clamp on the right nipple first, pinching it firmly as a final warmup before the tiny teeth bit in with firm pressure.

"There are many things I would quite like, and ninety-five percent of them begin with walking out of your door." 

"Only ninety-five percent?" Mycroft began playing with the left nipple, twitching and twisting, tweaking it in rhythm.

Sebastian gave a low, slow exhale, eyes closing. His hands were at his sides, loose, not quite relaxed, unmoving, and it was an interesting sort of zen state the man entered like that. "How often did you fuck him before? How often did you feel this lovely tight arse clutching around your cock?"

"As often as I liked." It was clear from the clench of his jaw that he was very likely pushing the man into a spitting, killing madness. He hadn't ever tried that before, mostly because it was a fair guess at saying it was his general state of being when he was a free man.

"That shooting I had him do in Madagascar -- never happened. I fucked him for three hours right here in front of the fire. I'm in the mood for a reprieve. There's a lot to be said for a lovely slow fuck. And you picked such lovely toys." He leaned in, and kissed Sebastian's neck then, making sure to leave a mark.

Dear heavens.

It was a damned good thing that the chair was sturdy, and that the manacles were first class. He hadn't quite expected such a... physical demonstration, and it threw Moran into a quite interesting place. He felt the man tense, trying to fall into his usual position of peacekeeper as best as he could without looking at Jim. "Jim, Christ, don't make this worse than it already is. Just calm down..."

That didn't help; not in the least. If anything, it seemed to drive him further, make him a writhing, spitting, screaming hellcat, desperately fighting to get free. At the rate he was going, he was going to damage himself, and that would be most unfortunate.

He'd thought the man could keep a better reign on himself than that. "Stand up and calm him," he ordered, just after he clipped on the second clamp. It was lovely, seeing the man stand up, quite hard already, a little chain connecting the two clamps as he reached for Jim's arms. 

"C'mon, you're gonna wreck yourself..."

"I'M GOING TO WRECK HIM!" Screamed, and it was entirely obvious why people were so terrified of him. Even bound, he was nearly unhinged, and likely doing more damage to himself than Mycroft ever would have done.

"Jim, Jim, c'mon, baby..." There at least was the mad fighting creature he'd first taken home even if Sebastian was trying to soothe him down. It was hard to say if it would work because Mycroft had no plans of stopping now.

Come on, and he kept struggling, kept moving, and oh, Mycroft had missed this kind of utter and complete investment, the way that he devoted every ounce of himself to what he was doing. Sometimes he expected that drugging the man was not nearly so amusing as allowing him to be unrestrained. Moments like that, he knew it to be true. Knew deep in his chest that he had the key to breaking them both. 

He stood up then, moved in behind Sebastian and took his time cupping one arse cheek, looking at Jim over the man's shoulder. "Lovely."

The struggle continued, and it was clear that he was hurting himself. Perhaps he should have restrained him better or in some different way, but then he would not have had the utter delight of watching him crack, go still, head dropping forwards as he gasped for breath.

Sebastian was leaned into him, breathing hard, hugging onto Jim as if it would help calm him down even as the fight went out of the man. "Yes, give in. I'm going to have your pet right in front of you."

Shudder, yes, through both of them, and Moriarty struggled again, but it was nothing like before; nothing at all, and then he went limp again, and Sebastian was petting him, as though that could somehow help.

"Good. Good, let him go now," he goaded, leaning in to kiss Sebastian's ear. "Unless you want to share him, though I suspect you can't be trusted if I attempt to re-secure you."

It was delicious, the way that they parted, Sebastian's thumb rubbing across James's cheek as though wiping something away with it. Clearly he wasn't or Mycroft would have been that much more delighted, but still. It did make him smile, perhaps a bit much as he ran hands down Sebastian's back and pulled him away from the shuddering man in the chair.

That it seemed to physically hurt James to watch was... delicious. He squeezed Sebastian's arse cheek, and then reached between them to pull at the chain. "Where were we?"

"You were fucking with Jim. I think you still are."

With a hum, Mycroft leaned close, lips touching the man's ear lightly, breath barely a whisper. "That is half of the fun." Perhaps a bit more than half, although the physical delights of Moran were certainly perfect enough in their way.

And Sebastian put himself down on his knees then, breathing out in a shaky exhale. "Fuck you. Fuck you, Mycroft Holmes."

Perfect.

"Oh, no, Colonel. I am utterly certain that I will be fucking you." Without a doubt, and he tilted his head to the side and smiled. "Do fetch the things your dear Jimmy has chosen, Sebastian."

"Fuck you." Mycroft reached down to pull at his cock, to take some of the edge off as he waited for Sebastian to stand up and fetch them. He came back, all of them bundled in his hand, and knelt again.

"Put the ring on for me." He had plans to fuck him for as long as possible, and the way that Moriarty put up a struggle again was delightful. It wasn't much of one, and it did take Moran's attention away from him for a moment, but that was all right. Understandable, even.

Sebastian slid the ring down, and gave his cock a stroke that made Mycroft want to blanket him, made him want to flatten the man out on the rug and overwhelm him just to hear the _noises_ Moriarty was going to make. "Keep it up, Jimmy. I might just pass him around to anyone who's interested." Oh, god. There it was again, Moriarty going practically mad, howling and fighting, and Moran turned away from him as though to go to him. Mycroft reached out and fisted his hand in the man's hair. "No. You stay here."

"Christ..." He went stiff beside Mycroft, didn't move then. Mycroft let go of his hair, and Sebastian didn't move the second time, let him reach down to consider wether he preferred to start with the dildo or the sound first.

Might as well go with both simultaneously, to Mycroft's way of thinking. The lubricant was slick, and he didn't bother being precise with it -- just poured it over Moran's dick, still semi-hard despite everything, and began to sick it on the way he needed it to be.

He watched the man waver back, putting a hand behind himself to brace him, thigh shaking as he grasped to hold him upright. "Fuck, fuck, that's..."

"Yes," Mycroft agreed thumb rubbing lube into the slit, slowly, carefully, deliciously. Now and again, Moriarty would struggle, but he seemed to have settled down, worn himself out completely.

He picked up the sound, held carefully between two fingers so everyone saw it. Sebastian huffed a slow breath, because pain was something that turned him on as much as constant incessant effort.

It was charming, honestly, and so he slid his lubed fingers over it and then shifted lazily to press the tip to the head of his dick. "Did your Jimmy ever try this? Hm? I'm sure there are so many things you have submitted to for him."

"Anything he wanted." He didn't look at Jim just then, only held still and waited. So Mycroft took his time pressing in the slick glass, threading it down into him. It was a bit ribbed, like a tiny corkscrew, and if he pulled it out and pushed it back in he could only imagine what it would feel like. Might as well indulge himself and commit thought to action, and so he did, drawing a lovely sound from his unfortunate victim. That seemed to give Moriarty a reason to struggle again, though it was much weaker than his previous endeavours.

"Fuck. Fuck..." And Moran didn't know what to do with his hands, which was a ridiculous and funny thing to watch as Mycroft held onto his cock and slowly fucked his dick from the inside out with that sound. The other man finally gave a soft whinge, a shiver rippling through him, and he could not resist leaning in to nip at the corded line of his neck. He tasted of skin and salt, and (although he was sure that it was purely his own imagination) desperation.

Moriarty seemed incapable of speech as he watched, although a low sound came from his throat now and again, something that was, perhaps, a growl.

"Seems a waste to put a dildo in that arse of yours when I could just fuck you and do this all night long." He repeated the motion, and felt Sebastian buck a little, a hand either clutching at or pushing at his hip. It was so hard to tell, but it made him glad he hadn't restrained the man. Confusing him was all the better.

"I will kill you." Back to conversation, then, Moriarty's voice hoarse and quite serious. "I will have parts of you preserved so that I always remember it."

He roughly palmed Sebastian's balls, watched the man struggle not to hit him for a moment, because he knew whatever he did to Mycroft would be inflicted tenfold on Jim. Lovely. "Slick up that toy for me, Sebastian, then roll over onto your hands and knees."

Charming. So enjoyable, and truthfully, breaking his toys was so much more fun than Sherlock's gentle persuasion.

Reaching down, Sebastian took it in hand, and his breath was faintly ragged when he did as much. He was still watching Mycroft, but every now and then he snuck little glances at Moriarty.

"Hands and knees," Mycroft reaffirmed, leaning back. The man was all lean, and he'd arch so prettily getting fucked on his knees.

Easy enough, and difficult enough, too, it seemed. It took him a moment before he handed over the object, now slicked, and dropped back down. He had shifted, moved just enough so that he could see Moriarty clearly, and Mycroft could, he suppose, say something about that. Do something about it, even, but for the moment, it was much more pleasant to slick the head of the glass dildo between the cheeks of his arse and nudge against the hole he found there.

The man dropped his head, hung down between strong shoulders and groaning as Mycroft took his time easing it in. It was a pretty, bulbous, twisted thing, the sort of toy he wanted to ply someone with slowly. "Did you do a lot of this, James?"

"Why? Would it make you happier to think that I didn't?" He was clearly exhausted, and yet. And yet, the sheer force of anger and hatred in him was just beneath all of that.

"No, it would give me endless delight to imagine myself usurping your place as this man's god and master. He hates and he loves you, and you own him completely." He gave the glass dildo a twist and a shove in, and Sebastian grunted, head turned towards Jim. "I just want to take that from you. Prissy murdering thing, wasting an assassin on planning."

Oh.

 _Oh_ , that was lovely, the way that he blanched, and the crack was nearly audible, Moriarty's shoulders hunching slightly, and Moran.

Moran was making angry low noises as he shook his head. "Jim, Jim, you didn't, you _never_ wasted..."

He believed it whether it was true or not, and Mycroft gave a low, nasty laugh and shifted the dildo again, harder, still careful. It wouldn't do to break his toys entirely. "Oh, but you did. Such a waste."

Perhaps he was imagining that Sebastian was growling. "Fuck, I'm not an assassin! I led a battalion, I planned, I had, Christ, I had soldiers, I..."

"Ended up wasted on the whims of a little madman," Mycroft finished, and laughed again, pulling loose the dildo and reaching up to jerk the clamps off of Moran's nipples with a sharp tug.

He gasped loudly, digging a shoulder against the floor in a way that seemed to be an attempt to stifle any deeper reaction. " _My_ madman," he hissed, but his arse was tipped up and he was just ready for a good slow plugging.

"Oh, I am sure that it goes both ways. Both of you, the one owning the other." Yes, and he rubbed his dick into the crease of him, shifting until he settled against the hole and then pushed inside.

"Fuck, fuck, fucking bastard..." His head rolled, and he pushed back against Mycroft's dick as if that would make anything go faster.

No, that wouldn't help but might as well let them pretend, he thought. Let Moriarty sit there, pale and stiff and watching as though he could ignore it or pretend that it wasn't happening.

He took his time, rolling his hips slowly. He got his fingers wrapped tight around Sebastian's hips, flexing them as he fucked the man, and then it hit him to start slapping his arse. Irregularly, but it certainly added to the humiliation of it, and the reaction he got was delicious, a sort of shift and shudder that added to the pleasure of it for him. Oh, yes, and Moriarty wasn't even looking at them anymore, just staring at the wall, and that did in some ways take away from the pleasure. Still. Still, it felt wonderful to know he'd driven the man into the kind of hard retreat he'd been in at first, that just fucking his pet in front of him meant that much. That driving a retired Colonel into pure submission was enough to break Jim. The shudder and shift evolved the longer he thrust, and it was a sad thing he didn't have enough hands to do everything he wanted to do -- he couldn't slap him and pull at his nipples _and_ fuck him with the sound at the same time.

"James, would you be a dear and help? Yes or no."

He didn't so much as shift; it was terribly disappointing, and quite made him want to sulk. Shame, because it wasn't as though he hadn't accomplished exactly what he had decided upon; it was just that he would have liked to play with them a bit more.

"Shame. I would've liked to see you fuck him." He pushed the sound in hard after pulling it out, driving in with enough force to earn a sound out of Sebastian that was close to a sob. If he could not have what he truly wanted, he would take what he could get.

It was beginning to be a boring fuck, anyway.

A little extra pain, and he'd have to see if he'd damaged Sebastian in the morning. If he ended up pissing blood, that was always a good way to tell, but he kept fucking moving. He kept his eyes on Jim, kept waiting for Sebastian's pain to turn into something interesting for the man.

After some time, it became patently obvious that it wasn't going to change, and so Mycroft reached down and snapped loose the cock ring, rutting into him until he came.

It was almost exhausting at that point.

He pulled away, stood up. "Pull yourself together, Colonel, and let your god and master go."

Bothersome. Just dealing with them, now, because he did not like the taste of disappointment when he should feel nothing but victory. With distaste, he moved to fetch his brandy from beside his chair before walking to stand by the fire and watch them.

"Oh, fuck." He was breathing hard as he settled onto his back, reaching for the flared bulb at the end of the sound as if he were reluctant to cause himself any more discomfort. 

It was odd how, in his frustration on Jim's non-reaction, he had a compulsion to walk over there and just apply his foot down to see what would happen. He'd lost more people during torture to frustration than he cared to admit. Sherlock would be surprised at how often he danced the edge between the criminal and the righteous, or perhaps not. They all had their little part to play, after all, and where good and evil existed, neutral must have its place, as well.

What he was doing wasn't at all altruistic, but it was keeping that criminal element from harming the rest of the world. Bombs in apartment blocks that he'd had to disguise as gas explosions, pure madness. Boiled down to their bare parts like that, they were so much... better.

So much easier, and Sebastian was up now, shaking but up, hands on the restraints holding Moriarty into place. "Baby. Baby, come on, Jim? Jim?"

He didn't so much as twist his head round. Hm. Perhaps he had managed o truly break him, but he doubted it. At least, he hoped not.

That would make things horribly boring, and he wasn't quite ready for that.

* * *

There were two hundred and six bones in the human body. Thirteen major organ systems. Seventy-eight organs, and a variety of bits and bobs that all amounted to Jim spending hours thinking of nothing but ways to break Mycroft Holmes down piece by piece by piece while keeping him alive for as long as possible.

He had not yet managed to secure a way to keep him from bleeding out entirely, of course, and the bones of the inner ear were too close to the brain for him to conveniently stab about in there in an attempt to pulverise them, but he could always save that to the absolute last.

He was sure that Sebastian would render whatever aid was necessary. They were tucked into the same cell again, and Sebastian simply sat quietly by his side, giving him no interference in his plans. Sebastian's arm was warm around his shoulder, and that was... nice. It had been a comfort for a long time, but there was little to be had even there now.

They were never getting out.

He could daydream about Holmes's slow death all he wanted, but no, they were never getting out. They were going to die, or perhaps be executed when the rape happy bastard finally died. Jim had always liked to think about rape as a boring sort of crime, a boot to the neck. It wasn't very cunning and it was far too heavy handed for his tastes. Boring. It was boring to make good sex weird and ruin it, boring boring boring. It ran out of ideas and fell into a rut and Jim just wanted out.

Jim wondered if Sebastian was considering suicide yet, or whether he already had.

Perhaps he should ask. Sebastian would doubtless be willing to assist him in his goal, might even be willing to strangle him or smother him. How he could assist Sebastian at the same time, well. That was something to consider as well.

"Love you." The rub of fingers on his shoulder made his chest ache, and he wasn't quite sure why. "You going to eat when dinner shows up later?"

He knew he should answer. He did, he knew, but he couldn't seem to drag anything up from the depths of himself to make the effort.

Better to sit in silence, feel Sebastian rubbing at his skin, and live in the deep abiding quiet.

When the door opened for dinner, it wasn't anyone he expected to see.

A woman. 

Anthea. That was her name, and Sherlock, bloody fucking Sherlock Holmes, and he wondered dully what Mycroft had in store for them tonight. If he thought Jim was going to manage to fuck a woman, well. He clearly knew less than he thought he did.

"Just get them out of here. I need to have the cleaning teams come in, and there's so much to do." Those were words, but they weren't words that made sense to him in that moment.

"I'm sure." Sherlock's voice was tight and odd. "Moran. Tell me that you can get Moriarty moving. There are clothes in the room next door. It's time to go."

Go... 

That was impossible.

"I..." He didn't say he could, just moved, started to pull at Jim. "Christ, c'mon, Jim..." He was upright already and getting him to stand.

All right. Fine. He was... but it was impossible. Completely, because Mycroft Holmes would set off the explosives, would... he had no idea. Would do something utterly horrific, he doubted not.

"It's all been deactivated," Athena was saying as if they weren't there. "They had nothing to do with it, which. Wouldn't have surprised me if they had, but they've been here for weeks now and everything was monitored."

"Of course it was. Mycroft was paranoid, and honestly, the conditions he's kept his little pets in are deplorable. Anyone else would have been in prison for the rest of their lives. I suppose it is nice, being above the law." The depth of sarcasm could not be missed.

Sebastian's tugging couldn't be ignored and so Jim came up, blinking at him and frowning. He had an arm behind Jim's back, and he was holding him steady. "Jim, c'mon..." Gentle, easy, and he couldn't stop staring at the younger Holmes. Brilliant brilliant Sherlock, letting them out? "We just want to go, we won't, it. We want to go home."

Home. Who cared about home? He wanted a sharp object and Mycroft Holmes at his disposal. Sherlock made short movements, drawing on gloves. "That is exactly what will happen if you move quickly enough. Otherwise, I feel sure my brother's dear assistant has made other arrangements."

Sebastian pulled him forward, towards Holmes, still wary. "We need clothes."

Something warm, because Jim was fairly certain that it was cold out. He was sure he had seen snow the last time they had been taken upstairs, and he glared at Sherlock heatedly. "Clearly I don't plan on parading either of you naked down the streets. There are bags packed this side of the door. Dress quickly," he ordered, and then tilted his head towards Mycroft's assistant. "Well?"

She sighed, and they both moved out of the doorway. Sebastian stepped forward, and started sorting through the bags handing one to Jim in hopes that he'd do something with it. 

"You'll need to be out of here before your mother comes to deal with the funeral arrangements and his estate. Within the half hour."

The impatience Holmes showed was unsurprising. "I do prefer that Mother know as little about Mycroft's... proclivities as you can manage. I should never hear the end of it otherwise."

Jim's voice was husky and his throat ached a bit when he spoke. "I take it someone finally gave him his just desserts then."

Sebastian was hurriedly putting on pants as if it mattered, as if either of them had any modesty left to cover. "Assassinated. Quite political of course." Not personal, then. That was funny, he would've sworn the man would've been killed by a personal enemy.

He had hoped that it would be him, but he would take what he could get, he supposed. "And you think letting us go now is safe, do you?"

Sherlock smiled and the gesture touched his eyes, it was so wide and slow. "I inherited a great deal of video, Moriarty. If you wish to make this a war, I can keep you collared and stored in a new location, or you can take this for the opportunity it is."

Yes, that would be the thing to do. He could worry about the rest when he had his mind back in working order, clear of whatever shit Mycroft Holmes had been dosing him with, and that would take time. "It would be sheer idiocy to do otherwise."

"It would be," Sherlock agreed, "Get dressed. Now. And remember that I have no compunctions about ruining my brother's memory by releasing those videos. I'm sure it would make an excellent book option for you, but dealing with the criminal class could get... interesting."

Clearly. Well.

"Here, sir." Sir, and that was nice to hear. Nicer to have Sebastian dressed and handing him things that belonged to him, things he wanted to wear, things that were not pretty pink princess dresses and accoutrements.

Pants and socks. Well fitted slacks, though not perfect, and a white shirt, and god he'd missed wearing his suits like suits of armor, holding up an image to the world helped out by Sebastian's quick fingers. "Christ. Even kept the tie you had on that day." Tiny little death's heads. Hah, yes, it was a shame he hadn't gotten Mycroft first, because now he knew everything ever about Sherlock Holmes, but the timing was all wrong and things had _changed_. Things were all wrong and his plan was utterly ruined; there was nothing to be done about it except regroup and move on, start making new plans. He still had Sebastian, after all, and that was acceptable. That would be all he needed, in reality, and he took a deep, steadying breath as Sebastian slipped his tie around his neck and had it fitted with quick, easy motions.

He straightened his collar, then helped Jim shrug into his suit. Nothing fit right, nothing at all, but it was better than naked, and he stepped into his shoes, didn't think anything of it when Sebastian knelt down to tie them off.

"Quickly, now. Where do you want to go?"

No question about that. "King's Cross station." They could go anywhere from there, change lines several times, in fact, before making their way to more convenient and less obvious places. He looked to Sebastian and saw him nod, and that was sufficient.

He nodded to Anthea. "Take them there. I'll meet Mummy for the arrangements. Do not detour." That was a significant look, but Sebastian looked keen now, sharper and more alert as he stood up. He still had the collar on his neck.

"Get that thing off of him." Off, off, off, and Jim still had the strap around his own ankle, but he hated the sight of that on Sebastian's neck, a black band that marred him. He didn't belong to anyone but James Moriarty, and he wanted it off. Now.

"Evidence, boys. _Evidence_." He tilted his head, and gave Moriarty a funny look as he turned down the hallway, leaving them with Anthea.

"We're going now," Sebastian reaffirmed, catching Jim's hand. That was good. That was more than acceptable, because it meant out and free.

Yes, going, following Holmes, and he glanced back at the bitch who had likely scheduled around the sheer perversion of Mycroft Holmes. "We'll want wire cutters. These will be off before we leave the station."

"You'll have them." She didn't seem at all flustered, and that bothered Jim. He wanted to see her flustered, he wanted to ruin her days as much as his had been ruined, but Sebastian was pulling him along, and they were following Sherlock out.

Daylight was cold and bright despite the clouds, and he found himself blinking in reaction. It had been a long time since he had walked out of that house even mostly unguarded, and it seemed strange. Unreal, even as they slid into the back of the car Jim had thought he would be allowed out of months ago before… well.

Before. He kept himself together restrained, as he settled into the seat and scanned the interior, Sebastian sitting beside him. No seat belts, and Sebastian looked ready, wary for all of it to go wrong.

The ride was easy -- no glances from the driver, nothing at all, and none of them spoke. Sherlock sat across the way, eyes watching the passing scenery with boredom. Jim knew it was a facade, that he was paying more attention to them than it seemed, but he didn't care. Not so long as they were, in fact, allowed to leave. It was possible that blowing up King's Cross was considered to be acceptable loss in ridding them of the embarrassing reality of what had happened, but he doubted that to be the case.

Even if Sherlock didn't care about such a tragically high body count, he had every reason to believe the doctor he lived with would. And perhaps they had the doctor to thank for going free. It was hard to guess, and he mostly wanted to travel to an old safe house, sit still and account for his life, see what was and wasn't left.

Sebastian sat silent at his side.

By the time the car came to a stop, the tension had him ratcheted so tightly he nearly shook with it. Honestly, the choice to be made was fairly simple; take the chance and live or take the chance and die, and it surprised Jim that he still had a desire to live at all. There had been moments that he hadn't, most recently, in fact. His wrists were still bruised beneath the bandages, and his shoulders were a constant ache. Having freedom so close seemed to make it worse somehow, and Sherlock turned to look at them, catching his eyes. "You can get out now."

Sebastian popped the door open, and had Jim by the wrist pulling at him as they got out of the car. "Wire cutters."

The sardonic twist of Holmes's mouth was nothing like a smile. He reached into his inner jacket and pulled out a pair before handing them over to them. "I expect it was a better choice to give these to you later than sooner."

Sebastian gripped it tightly, and then hauled Jim away from the car. That was all they had, their clothes and a pair of damn wire cutters, and Sebastian dragging them off to what he hoped was a restroom where they could sit and cut that off out of sight. He wanted it off of Sebastian, off of his ankle.

He wanted it gone, and them with it.

The very first restroom available was on the left, and there were several people going in and out of it. Jim didn't care, and gave even less of a damn when they earned funny looks because they were going into the same stall.

Sebastian's hands were shaking as he crouched down -- that had to look wonderful on the other side of the stall -- and pushed up Jim's trouser leg to try to get the ankle monitor off. "Here goes nothing."

Or everything, and Jim realised that he was holding his breath in anticipation or fear or something very like one of those things. When the cutters snipped through the plastic and wire, he released it in a nearly explosive gust, and then gasped in just as sharply. "Oh."

Sebastian gave a laugh as he picked it up and straightened up to inspect it better. "It's stopped transmitting. I think we're all right. Christ."

Christ indeed, and he reached out to snag the tool from Sebastian, pushing his chin up with the palm of his hand and getting his fingers on the collar. "Hold still."

"Okay." Sebastian still braced himself, waiting for his head to blow off and Jim halfway was too as he carefully pressed it together and cut through. There was no explosion, just the scarring made visible from how tight and how much friction the thing had gotten, a dirty line of injury and grime around his neck.

Carefully, Jim licked his thumb and reached up, rubbing it across the line. It smeared, and for a moment, he was fascinated by it. Sebastian shifted, and that seemed to break through his thoughts, making him blink up at him.

Time to go, then.

Sebastian took that from him, too, and pocketed the wire clippers in case they needed them, stuffing the collar and ankle device in another. No money, though Jim supposed he could pickpocket cash, and then.... then where?

"I could call my sister."

Oh.

Well.

"Are you sure that is a good idea?" Probably wasn't. It was probably a horrible idea, in fact, but Sebastian would want to see her soon all the same. "Fine. But we should...." Definitely pickpocket the money and take a few trains before deciding on a place to go or somewhere safe to stop for a bit.

"I don't know what the fuck to do. Might as well pretend to be..." Sebastian shrugged. Legit, he could follow that. Mycroft Holmes had had his fingers in all of Jim's pies the whole time, and he knew that. Perhaps starting entirely fresh would be the least incriminating. 

Sebastian pushed open the stall door, rubbing at his neck and stopping to wash his hands. There was a man giving them a funny sort of look, but Jim bared his teeth at him for a few seconds and that seemed to be enough to set him on his way.

Bastard.

Jim followed Sebastian's motions and then they walked out into the crowd, shifting and moving between human beings. It was almost too much, made his nerves raw, made him want to have a screaming meltdown, but even when he had those, he was aware of everything around him and that there was a time and a place.

This was neither.

They moved through the crowd together where it would've been easier to work apart, where they would have worked apart before. He snagged a wallet and Sebastian nicked another, quick and smooth, and they just kept going, kept walking until they were at the ticket counter and it was time to hope that between them they could afford a ticket to somewhere.

Anywhere.

They could get more cash at any time, so long as they managed to make it somewhere else.

Jim paid no attention as Sebastian navigated the purchase of the tickets. Instead, he looked round, eyes moving, catching glimpses of things going on around him. It was too much, all too much, where before it would not have been. He wasn't sure how to change that, but just at the moment, he only had one particular goal, and that was simple: get away.

Far far away. Sebastian's sister lived south, southwest, somewhere out in the middle of nowhere with goats probably on her roof, and that was far enough away for Jim just then. Quiet meant that if someone came for them, they'd see them coming, the locals would notice, it wouldn't be like London which was just too much for him at the present. He'd been in that room, that cell, that house, far too long.

"Tickets," Sebastian declared, turning towards him. "You want to grab something to eat?"

Not particularly, but there was nothing for it. They had best look for something, even if it was wretched. Jim couldn't remember the last time they had eaten, but then, he didn't remember quite a bit of the last few days. "All right."

"We look like bloody refugees," Sebastian smiled, leaning into Jim to tuck his ticket into Jim's pocket. "Pretzel and a coffee, yeah? The shitty junk food I'd indulge in when you weren't looking."

Carefully, Jim stretched his neck, slowly, the crack of it loud when it popped. "One of the sweet ones."

"Yeah, all right." He was still tugging Jim along as if leaving him to sit and wait would be unsafe. Possibly it was, possibly men in suits would swoop in and correct Holmes's mistake for queen and country. Most likely they would simply shoot them both from afar and deal with the panic after the fact. He didn't particularly care which.

Following along, it likely seemed that he was the obedient one of the two; that he did as told, and Sebastian did as he liked. That was somewhat amusing, and he couldn't help the twitch of his mouth at the idea. Couldn't be further from the truth, but there was a safety in that sort of assumption, being the smaller smartly dressed man tagging along. Sebastian pulled him into line with him, ordered two pretzels and two coffees, one salted and pitch black, the other cinnamon sugared and milky sweet coffee. He carried the food and the coffee as they scouted towards a table as well. They had an hour until their train, might as well tuck themselves into a corner and out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind, or so they said, and for most people it was very likely true. Not him, of course, nor the Holmes brothers. Likely not Sebastian, either, but that was the nature of his profession.

They could position themselves against the safety of the wall. Once they were seated, Sebastian wasted no time in ripping off a piece of his pretzel. "Christ, these taste better than I remember."

Jim had to admit that it was true when his hit his tongue, just a bit of salt and quite a lot of sugar and cinnamon and butter. He nearly moaned, because yes, they had been fed, and not starved, but some things had no substitute. Rail fare might be terrible but this was... quite delicious. In fact.

Sebastian gave a laugh, and ate another piece slowly. "Take your time, we'll get another one to go before we board the train."

That was something to consider, all right. "But if I eat faster, I could have a third." Just saying that seemed. Frivolous, perhaps. He still felt slow and dull and stupid, had no idea what the hell it was that he'd been drugged with, but that would pass. He would figure it out and it would pass.

"We'll get three to go. I'll feel better once we're on the train." He started to mimic Sebastian, breaking off a small piece to savour it. So long as he was promised as many as he liked...

Well.

Time was strange now that they were loose. It passed too slowly, mostly because he was waiting for someone to come and get them, or to hear a shot and see Sebastian's head explode like a melon. It was all nerves, made worse by the fact that Sebastian had pocketed the trackers, and he wasn't sure why exactly. Not exactly. "We're headed to Bath. My sister -- Jeremy's a minor lord, and a lawyer, and a bit of a bint, but he's nice enough."

He couldn't help making a face. Bath. He would prefer going somewhere more familiar, but there was going to be none of that. Likely for the best, but still. "You've not introduced me to them." There were very likely good reasons.

His fondness for sharp objects, for example.

"Good a time as any." He laughed, closed his eyes as he reached for his coffee cup. "I've never met your brothers."

Nor would he, in fact. Some secrets were better kept. "So many reasons, so little time."

"And sometimes, it's just better not to make things unnecessarily complicated." He shrugged his shoulders, taking another sip of his coffee. "Just... C'mon, we'll get more and see if we can board yet."

Somewhere between standing in line for more pretzels and boarding the train, time slid sideways. It wasn't completely unusual, but it was unnerving. They had been in the same place for so long that he hadn't noticed time missing, and now it was obvious and horrific. There were people sitting across from him who hadn't been before and Sebastian smiling with worry at him and they both looked like hell -- if Sebastian looked like hell, he knew he had to as well. It was a small blessing that there weren't more people. It probably meant it wasn't a packed train and they could have a couple of hours in quiet and no one milling around before they got there. That was nice enough, and he could ignore people muttering, lean into Sebastian and close his eyes, pretend there was no one there but the two of them. The fact that he had turned so ridiculously _cloying_ was annoying. He was better than that, and yet he could not seem to help himself. He felt maudlin. He'd spent the better part of a year in Holmes's 'custody' being molested, doing whatever the man wanted him to do, watching the man do whatever he wanted to with Sebastian. 

Sebastian nudged a pretzel into his hand and leaned into him. "Close your eyes, and we'll be done with this soon."

Yes. That he could do, and so he did as he was told and munched steadily on his pretzel in the meantime. At least that way he wouldn't be able to tell when time went missing. For the best, doubtless.

Sebastian mostly sat at his side, and stroked his leg as if it were somehow soothing for himself. His own leg! And then he seemed to catch himself and simply held Jim's hand in between bites of food and then the train was pulling into a station, all squealing brakes. 

Blinking, Jim came to himself, tilted his head upwards to see Sebastian. "Time to go." Yes. Time to go.

"You want to be picked up or try and rent something?" It was dicey, renting on cash, and how humiliating would it be to get nicked for credit card theft? Not that there hadn't been humiliation aplenty, but there was no point in adding to it.

Decision made, he nodded. "Call someone." As though it would be that simple.

Nothing seemed simple anymore.

* * *

Sebastian wasn't sure they were keen enough fraudsters to actually pull off the rental car route, and it was a relief when Jim told him to call someone. He still ended up standing in a payphone box with his eyes fixed on where Jim was sitting, dialling and not looking away. Jim looked like hell -- unshaven, eyes hollowed out, gaunt. He had done for weeks, months. Worse since their escape attempt had gone straight to hell in a hand basket, and he honestly felt as though he should have expected that. He had hoped against hope, though, and sometimes it worked out, sometimes it didn't.

Hindsight was twenty-twenty just now, and apparently so were the looks Jim was being given. What the hell was that about?

He shoved the money in, and dialled the house quickly, watching Jim while it rang. It wasn't like they smelled or anything. No one had been giving them that look before they had left King's Cross, so why in the hell would they be doing it now?

 _"Hello?"_ Thank God. Sabrina.

"Brina. It's me, Sebastian. I'm at the rail station in Bath, and uh... Need a place to stay." He'd mention Jim once he got her to agree to that much.

_"Oh, my god. Sebastian. Sebastian, I, how did you... no, no, don't tell me, just... find somewhere quiet. A corner out of the way, and I'll be there as soon as I can, just..."_

"How did I what?" He leaned a shoulder into the phone box. "I just, yeah, well, my partner's with me. It's sort of a long story."

 _"It's all over the news, Sebastian. There's... there are horrible, horrible things, please, just... I'll come and find you, tell me exactly where you are and then look for somewhere close by to hide yourself away. Don't..."_ She sounded nearly hysterical.

Now he was getting concerned, holding onto the phone. "I'm in the fucking train station, and we're over by the payphones -- _hide_? What fucking horrible, oh fuck. Fuck."

Oh, _fuck_ , and people were looking at Jim, whispering, and he was beginning to notice. This was going to end badly by any stretch of the imagination.

 _"I'll be there as soon as possible, just, just slip out of the way, find somewhere quiet and close by, then call me and tell me where you are. I'm coming."_ He could hear her scrambling for her keys, yelling at the nanny that she was going out and would return soon.

"Okay. Okay." He didn't know what the hell was going on, but he hung up calmly and walked over to Jim to haul him to his feet. "Hey, let's go somewhere a little quieter."

The way his head jerked up said more than anything that he had lost his train of thought again, or time, or something of a similar nature. He was shaking, just a bit, and looked straight up at Sebastian. "All right." Which was more or less what he had gotten ever since they had been set free; agreement, and little more.

It was scaring the bloody hell out of him, but he pulled at Jim and took him around the corner to sit, leaned up against the wall. It was sort of a smoker's corner, and mostly filled with people who were too busy sucking down cigarettes to pay attention to whatever had been released. If they were lucky, anyway, and he could in no way count on that. Their luck had been utter shit of late.

It was easier to slide an arm behind Jim's shoulders and wish he had a fucking smoke, a lighter, a gun, a car, a goddamned clue of what was going on. They were getting stared at hard, and he could feel it and there was no telling what Sherlock had done or if they were being looked for by the police or what story had been told.

Best just to look angry, then, to make sure people knew he wasn't interested in what they thought and that all of them could fuck off and die for all he cared. Jim stood against him, allowed him to touch him, and just... Jim was lost. They were both lost, he supposed, and he reached up, allowed himself to stroke Jim's hair, to kiss his temple.

He wasn't going to have a fucking breakdown standing in the train station. He was better than that, stronger than that, and he wasn't going to go on a hysterical jag just standing there by the smokers. He was going to close his eyes and breathe and hope his sister got there fast and could tell him what the fuck Holmes the younger had done.

It seemed to take forever. He knew he should go back out, call her, tell her specifically where to find them, but he couldn't stop petting Jim and he couldn't bring himself to leave the smoking area. At least smokers seemed to get the idea that they wanted to be left the fuck alone, and other people definitely didn't get that. When he finally realised his name was being paged, he nearly jerked with the surprise.

He pulled at Jim then, and headed for the ticketing area. "C'mon, we'll get the hell out of here and get cleaned up, get your suit tailored, get shit straight..."

Get their heads on straight, and it was funny to him that they'd choose this moment to lose their shit when he thought they had been holding themselves together pretty well up until now. Clearly he had been lying to himself.

It wasn't like they'd had a lot to do for the last couple of weeks, and he hadn't been allowed out in a while and fuck. Fuck, he was really going to lose it if they didn't get out of there.

They turned a corner and there was his sister. Thank fucking god.

"Sebastian!" That caught the attention of people around them, but he didn't give a fuck. He didn't _care_ , he was just so glad to see her, and she looked utterly wild-eyed. "Oh, god, Sebastian, I...."

He was pulling Jim along by his hand, leading him, and he just kept walking towards her. "Your car, now. I don't know what's going on anymore. Thanks for coming to get us..."

Her expression was wracked with guilt. "I should have noticed something was wrong sooner, but you go for months sometimes without calling, and..."

And Jim was off in whatever mind world he went missing into these days, so Sebastian kept walking and Sabrina fell into step with him. His sister had noticed him missing? No, his sister said she should have noticed him missing, and why would she even care, how did she know he was missing? She shouldn't have known, it... He squeezed Jim's hand, hoping it might get some of his waxing and waning attention. Fucking drugs, there was the upside there, Jim'd be off the fucking drugs soon. "He put out the tapes."

The way her face crumpled said as much. "Oh, sweetheart."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I need to know exactly what, what happened, what..." Once they were in the car because they were still winding their way to the car park, but he was scanning for his sister's auto. It was too much, because there were people looking at them, watching them, eyes startled or sympathetic or condemning. It was enough to make him want to hit someone. He was accustomed to controlling a narrative, to manipulating it for Jim, with Jim, because of Jim, not being part of someone else's story. That'd been years and years behind him.

It was a relief when he saw the taillights of his sister's car light up, and they arrowed towards it.

"It's all over the news. Not the complete story, whatever that may be, and what is likely only the, the least of whatever's happened." Sabrina was wringing her hands, and Jim was watching her with his head tilted to the side as though none of it was more than a mild curiosity.

"What's all over the news?" He got in the back seat with Jim, and she could wring her hands while she drove as long as she _drove_.

"Video clips. They came out just after the assassination, within a few hours' time. They're..." God. His sister was a fucking _trauma surgeon_ , and nearly in tears. "Oh, Sebastian. I don't... how did you get free?"

"His PA opened the door. Dropped us off at King's Cross and gave me a pair of wire cutters." He leaned in shoulder to shoulder with Jim and just... couldn't think.

"Wire cutters?" Her voice was shrill, and he just. Wanted to rest. Wanted... he had no idea. Didn't even know how to respond, and it was apparent that she could tell. "All right. I, I'll take you home, and I'm calling someone to have you checked over. It'll be less uncomfortable for you than if I do it."

"What the fuck was in those videos?" He reached into his pocket, and he had the -- the tracker, his collar, and he could give them to her and she'd know what responsible normal people did with shit like that.

Just at the moment, he hadn't a fucking clue. All things considered, it was clear that he wasn't responsible or normal, because he had been trying to find a way to use the damned things to an advantage, more or less. "I, Sebastian. Just. Don't ask."

He leaned back, shoulders pressed against the upholstery of the back seat, and thought before saying, "I -- I fucking need to know what's out there, what everyone's seeing. I, I had to cut a damned collar off my neck."

"Which is why you don't need... Just for god's sake, give it time, give us a moment. Let us get home, and..."

"What is it?" Jim's voice was dark, silky, just on the edge of threatening. "Was it the pretty pink dress? Was it the day your father realised?"

Jim's voice sounded like Jim. Jim's voice sounded like Jim, and he shifted, leaned into him with a sense of relief that made him start to laugh. "I just need to know, or Jim'll keep making suggestions."

It wasn't a laughing matter. It truly wasn't, and Brina had turned shockingly pale. "Father?"

"Oh, Christ. Christ. I don't want to -- fuck, Christ." He pressed his mouth against Jim's suit, eyes closed tight. "Fuck, fuck! I never wanted to, fuck."

"There, sweetheart. There." It was like Jim and unlike him, but his fingers carded into Sebastian's hair and he pulled him in, let him curl close and hide his face. "So, clearly it might have been worse."

Or they'd just made it worse by sharing. Jesus, which videos were there? "Christ." He breathed in, and exhaled, a noise that was half laughter and half crying, and completely fucking up their seat belts.

"I don't see why you're bothering. After all, I continue to expect that someone shall put a bullet through one or both of us before too much longer. Don't you?" The fact that Jim was smiling about it was probably disturbing to Sabrina.

"Holmes did it. Holmes did it to pull your claws, and he's probably used our real fucking names and fuck, fuck!"

Fuck, that was the best thought he had, and it wasn't much of one. Jim was petting him, which was bizarre. Jim didn't pet. Jim didn't do that sort of thing, didn't soothe, didn't offer any sort of comfort. Sebastian had sometimes wondered if he even knew what it was. The fact that he was now was indicative of so many things. That he was cracked, that they were both cracked, that it was all fucking ruined, but he was tired and sad and tense. When the car stopped, his sister got out of it and just stood there, holding open the back door and not saying anything. He was tucked into Jim, holding onto him, and trying, trying hard to get his shit together. "What, what was the fucking video?"

"Sebastian..."

"Just tell him what was on the video." Jim's voice was quiet, even. "If you do, he'll get himself over it and move right along."

He couldn't see his sister, but he knew when she gave in, could practically see the slump of her. "The.. The pink dress. There were... it wasn't very well lit, of course, but you could see him there, pinning the both of you down. I..."

Fuck. Fuck, yeah, but Jim was right and Jim wasn't processing it, but maybe he was. He'd find a way to use it once his head cleared. Sebastian took a deep breath, and unbuckled Jim's seat belt, started getting out of the back of the vehicle with him. "Okay. Okay. You, take the collar, the tracking, shit. There'll be cops around, eventually. They'll want it. It's explosive."

The shriek that earned him was not unexpected, in all honesty. "Explosives?"

"Mmmm. To make sure we couldn't get away," Jim murmured, and started looking about. There was something like curiosity in it.

The driveway was good gravel in that part, and they were out in the country, out in the middle of nowhere which was how his sister and if he were honest his entire fucking family liked it. The best neighbours were the ones way on the other side of the fence, maybe with a bit of grazing land in between, or a good bog. 

He got Jim to his feet again, an arm looped around him as he tried to get his own mental balance back. Just the pink dress video, and clearly not the one with his father because, hell, Holmes was probably holding that in reserve.

There would probably be some sort of condition on it, on their behaving, on their not strapping explosives to John Watson or shooting at him. Frankly, even if that were the least of it, Sebastian was fairly certain that he would accept it so long as there was no video of the episode with his father.

"Okay. Okay. Can we stay here for a bit? I'm, I don't know what we've got out there left from the business and what we don't, and uh..." They had legitimate fronts, they'd just have to wear them with pride for a while.

Perhaps even a long while.

"So long as you let me call someone. I've a friend, you both look terrible, and..."

Jim's head was tilted to the side, watching. It was not quite right, but then, very little was. "Sebastian." So. It was up to him, then.

"Okay? I'm not, it, it's just been rough, I think we're okay." He didn't want to watch anyone examining Jim, didn't want Jim to watch anyone doing that to him, but if it were the normal thing to do...

He had no idea what was normal anymore.

Sabrina could tell it, too. "You aren't okay. Neither of you." She bit her lip. "Give me those things. Wait, let me get a bag." Probably that was a good idea. He couldn't tell.

"Why don't we go in the house?" Jim was peering around like a scent dog too long denied of a natural environment, and Sebastian had the worst mental image of him trying to go bounding off through the high grass past the house.

"Just a mo." His sister waved a hand. "I want, we need... You can't bring explosives into the house with the girls, Sebastian!"

Oh.

"Oh. Right. I'm pretty sure it's been deactivated." Mostly. Sort of. He started to shrug out of his coat, and wadded it up in that. "We can put this in the trunk then."

Clearly he wasn't thinking properly. He wasn't doing anything properly, in fact, because she still looked utterly boggled, and Jim was stepping off to the side, looking as though his first notion was to wander down the lawn to see what was there.

And maybe it was. He moved as quickly as he could manage, and at least he wasn't carrying the damned things around in his coat pocket anymore. If it all went to hell, well, a car was easier to replace than a house and kids. Particularly the kids part.

Hell. Particularly the Jim part, because the next time he looked up, he had wandered further down the way and was half-lost in bloody camellias as though they were of interest to anyone ever. The damned things were in dire need of shaping, and he looked as though he planned on getting swallowed in them entirely.

"Jim?" He shot his sister an apologetic look as he closed the car trunk and started after him. Sebastian reached his hand out to brush fingers over the flowers, and Sebastian just pulled up short of stopping him, because hey. Flowers. "You want to go rest for a while before this doctor person gets here?"

He was staring at the bees, head tilted to the side. "I never particularly liked the outdoors," he offered, frowning. "Dirty. Biting insects. Sunshine." His nose wrinkled. "But..."

"Yes?" He shifted, slid an arm over Jim's shoulders. "It feels novel now."

Jim's shifted, rolling his neck so that it cracked. "Yes. Perhaps."

Seb turned his head, nudged his lips against Jim's temple. "I love you. C'mon, it's too cold to stand out here."

For a moment he thought that perhaps there would be some sort of resistance; that Jim would insist on continuing to stand there, but a faint tug set him moving again. It was strange, this Jim, and he didn't particularly like it. He wanted his Jim back, the one who railed and threatened to make people into things. He missed his keen and stunning Jim, had missed him for a long time. Hadn't seen him except in bits and flashes. And he was an emotional shit, yeah. He pulled, guiding gently back towards his staring sister.

It was clear that she hadn't the faintest notion of what to do, or where to start. That was saying something, because she was accustomed to all sorts of general horrors. She'd been a trauma surgeon for the better part of a decade, and medical school before that, so the fact that she seemed utterly boggled was... well. It was unpleasant.

"Come inside. I'm going to call someone to, to take care of the things in the car." And a physician, and likely they would need to see the police, and god.

He never wanted to deal with the police as anything but a game. "Police. It, Christ. Jim went missing, I knew I couldn't call the police."

"Of course you should have...!" The way she reigned herself in was obvious. "Of course, but darling, they're going to be looking for you now. It... they'll come here all the same."

"Might as well call them about the explosives. Maybe better to leave it on the driveway." In case they decided to try to detonate it in place, now that he was thinking about it, because cops got a bit singleminded about that shit. Not that anyone cared when he was out and walking around in public, which honestly was quite a bit more likely than it wasn't. Hell, but his explosives were usually quite a bit more carefully put together than whatever might have been cobbled together by the minions of Mycroft Holmes.

He didn't put much faith in the explosives of other people.

It was better that way, not to trust others' explosives. He just...

Kept walking towards the house with Jim in tow. It was a relief to finally be inside someplace that wasn't Holmes's house.

"Uncle Basty!" A fair chorus of children's voices, and Sabrina's girls all came barreling in from who knew where. It wasn't all that unusual for it to happen; they loved when he visited, but he had never before brought Jim, and Jim was staring at them as though they were particularly fascinating kittens in a brawl.

Good lord.

Well, kittens in a brawl was all right. Kittens in a brawl were safe and okay because everyone loved kittens. He hugged at Jim, and tried to smile at the kids. "Hey, hi. It's been a long trip -- how've you been?"

"Sidney stole Ruffles, and..."

"Did not!"

Sumner interrupted. "She did, but..."

"Girls!" Yes. Adorable brawling kittens or possibly something like a hurricane. He couldn't be entirely certain. "Where is Nancy?"

"The'th n the loo," Sara announced, lisping.

"We're gonna, is the guest room still free?" Or even still a guest room, he wanted to ask but that was sort of an awkward fucking question. It all felt like too much just then. Most everything did, and he didn't know how long he would be able to manage that. Then again, surely they would be able to manage for a bit. Just a bit, and Jim was wandering again, eying his nieces and then his sister as though he had found something truly entertaining.

He'd known there was a reason he didn't introduce Jim to his family.

"Of course, darling. Just upstairs, you remember where it is, yes?"

"I'm fucked up, not brain damaged." He reached for Jim, sliding fingers under his armpit to steer him away from the kitchen. "Still hungry?"

Oh, that was a mean, dirty scowl. That was something he had missed desperately. "Yes. Give me something. Find me something," he demanded. "Something good. Something...."

Yes. All right. That was a fair goal, he could manage that.

"Okay. Upstairs, and then uh... I'll cook." It was as close to focused and together as he could get. He was used to doing just what they needed, to being active. To getting shit done even if Sabrina was going to be awkward beyond comparison.

That and they'd be dealing with some sort of physician, and the fucking cops.

Today had started out so well, too.

* * *

Honestly, he didn't understand the need of it. He'd been bloody fucking inspected enough by a variety of people, even actual physicians now and again. Mycroft Holmes had put his fucking fist up his arse, he didn't need some prat friend of Sebastian's sister fucking about and looking at his various bits and pieces. Sebastian was compliant, but Sebastian had always been good at compliance. There were blood draws as well, as if that could be any use because whatever damage was done was well done, far along, thank you, and maybe it was the sight of blood welling up in little tubes that set him off.

It wasn't any sort of aversion that he had to blood; James Moriarty was long since well-accustomed to blood and quite enjoyed it under the proper circumstances, those circumstances naturally being the sort which meant Sebastian was causing the bleeding and he was the one enjoying it. So no, not an aversion, but the sight of the needle digging into his elbow made him jerk and then there was blood all over his skin, and honestly.

He hadn't screamed the whole time Mycroft Holmes had his way with him. He wasn't the sort, and it was better to be a bitch and make himself not think about it. He wasn't _tender_ , he wasn't... so many things, honestly. He wasn't.

Only...

Only in that moment, he started screaming, howling, and it probably wasn't the blood, it was stress and freedom and being cheated of killing that bastard himself with his bare hands and his own freshly brushed teeth. Sebastian wrapped himself around Jim, as if that helped, muttering soothing nonsense.

It didn't help.

At all, and he kept screaming, epithets and howls and violent struggles, because he hadn't. Hadn't struggled, had just given fucking in because it was that or show how it was fucking with him, and then the miserable cocksucking motherfucking bastard had gotten his hands on Sebastian, and Sebastian _belonged to him_ , was his, his, his, his, and he was so fucking furious.

"I know, I know, we're out, we're out and he hasn't got any of us..." And it didn't matter, because there was so much revenge, so much that was rightfully his to take that he never could now because that bastard had gone and gotten himself killed over some stupid political matter instead of because he deserved it!

He'd had _plans_ , intentions. He had plotted revenge with more care than he had plotted his little surprises for Sherlock, and he couldn't keep his fury at that from screaming out of him.

"No, look, he'll wear himself out, it's fine, it's fine." Sebastian hugged him closer, cupped the back of his head, tried to fold around him as best as long limbs would allow. "C'mon, Jim."

No! No, and maybe he screamed it or maybe he didn't, but Sebastian kept hold of him, and he was wearing down. It took too much out of him to keep fighting, and the sudden sharp prick of a needle made him turn even in Sebastian's tight grip, gaze hot and angry and baleful as he bared his teeth at the physician.

"That was fucking unnecessary," Sebastian hissed. "Christ, we've been drugged for months now, what the fuck?"

"It's just going to calm him down," the bastard declared. "Keep him from hurting himself."

"I'll hurt you!" Jim snapped, and he might just if he weren't already feeling calm and ordinary and stupid, all of which made him want to scream again.

"Fuck, he tires out before he hurts himself. You don't, you just..." Sebastian was still holding onto him, tight and angry, and that made him feel better in a funny softer way. "Christ, that was unnecessary."

Unnecessary but it left him sort of warm and fuzzy at the edges, less furious. He hated it. He hated that he had to let the drugs wash over him, and that he ended up sprawled against Sebastian's chest while Sebastian hissed furious words at the doctor. "I should press fucking charges against you! Christ! Do you know how long we've worked to get free of, of shit like this?"

"Sir, I do understand, and I'm very sorry, but he seemed as though..."

"Out!" Jim was a bit surprised that he managed to express that opinion. It was.... Well, for lack of a better term, nice.

Not a horrible drug, then, he had a little oomph left in him, and fuck, he didn't need medical care that badly. No one did. "Just go. We're, we're fine. I don't need care. Get out."

Get out, and the man clearly didn't want to do it but then Sebastian yelled at him again, and he decided it might be a good idea to do as he was told.

"I hate this," Jim declared finally. "He's dead and we didn't do it."

"And then his asshole brother burned us on national television," Sebastian added, quiet and low, nuzzling kisses against Jim's temple. "Fuck. So, blood tests and everything, and that just pissed me off. Christ. Why do a blood draw and then drug someone?"

He'd like to say that he didn't know. Sebastian knew how to handle him when he lost control of himself, and he didn't often lose himself entirely. Other people found it disquieting, though. It wasn't the first time it had happened. It probably wouldn't be the last, but he only hummed tiredly in response and let Sebastian hold him. 

They were out, after all. Sitting on the guest room bed of Sebastian's sister, and out. "Police are coming 'round. About the explosives, to try to get a statement." Hmm, and when had he missed that discussion? "Suspect it'll be local and London mixed."

If there were anything he wanted to avoid, that would be it. He didn't feel like talking to the police, although the drugs would likely make it a bit easier. That was something, surely. He hummed again instead of answering and snuggled himself in closer to Sebastian's grasping arms because that was comfortable. That was something he had been denied too long, because Sebastian belonged to him, because Holmes was a fucker, because he thought it was fun to play with Jim's things. It was fun for no one at all that he'd played with Jim's things. Not for himself, not for Sebastian, and not for Holmes, in particular.

Sebastian's hand stroked the back of his neck. "We're going with you the business consultant. Shook out the old contracting company rather than the exports business."

Contracting was certainly better than exports, and he frowned. "I want to go back to work." He knew he was whining. He was allowed to whine.

"Not for a bit. We're sort of fucked up right now," Sebastian pointed out, rubbing small circles at Jim's side. "But yeah. We'll get our shit together. We will."

Thing of it was, Sebastian was his. He owned him, body and blood and bone, and that was a fact. When he was quite himself, he wouldn't admit that Sebastian owned him right back and knew exactly what to do to make him feel better. "Can we torture someone soon?" It would make him feel better.

"Best when the police aren't tracking our every movement. Apparently it's a big fucking deal when the media gets involved." Sebastian shifted, pulling at Jim. "Let's get you something to drink, eh? Need to talk my sister down anyway."

"They're just explosives," Jim muttered, voice a little slurred. "Nothing to get excited about now they're off."

"You were screaming," Sebastian offered, still rubbing circles on his side. "And then you drooled on my shoulder and muttered for a while and she left to calm down the kids. I think she briefly forgot about the explosives."

"All of the excitement, I expect." He didn't remember the drooling bit. That was worrisome. Still, he'd been drugged and deep in his own thoughts, so it was possible that he'd drooled. Or that Sebastian was trying to have one over on him.

"Just rest here and I'll fend them off for a while."

He had always been fine on his own. It was the reason that he hadn't worried when he had first been picked up by Holmes. He was self-sufficient, always had been. James Moriarty, whatever else he might have been, had always been able to take care of himself. If that meant murdering someone, well. That was just how things were. Now, though, the sudden sharp shock of panic at the thought of Sebastian walking away took his breath. "No!"

He hadn't moved, and stayed silent and firmly present after Jim's outburst. "Okay. It's okay. You come with me, and we'll prop you up in the kitchen." He made it sound easy and made the decision in a way that didn't make Jim feel as if he were imposing. That was more than acceptable in his estimation and so he allowed Sebastian to move him as he liked and stumbled along beside him. Sebastian supported him every step of the way, because that was what Sebastian did. Perhaps he had taken it for granted before, but for now it was... Nice. It was affirming to know that Sebastian was loyal to him even when he felt daft and thick, when he hadn't been able to get himself free, never mind getting them both free. They reached the bottom of the stairs and started toward the kitchen. "Brina?"

His sister looked a little something like him, Jim thought. Blonde with pretty green-grey eyes, a stubborn set to her jaw that likely meant she was a hellion when she wasn't being shocked about things. "Sebastian."

"Did your doctor friend say anything useful?" He guided Jim over to the kitchen chair, pulled it out for him, let him sit down. It was sort of a regal place to sit, and he could see everything in the room.

Sebastian did know how to make him happy, or at least content, and he settled in, glancing around in curiosity. There were so many things that indicated what the household was, how it ran; whiteboard schedules on the refrigerator, little magnets holding up childish artwork, fruit-flavored snack packets in a bowl on the counter. If he hadn't already seen Sebastian's nieces, he would have been able to tell there were children there.

They were talking, and he was doing his best to ignore it. Truth be told, he didn't want to know, had no intention of paying a damn thought to anything any physician said. He knew enough that he didn't need to consider it any further.

"Christ, we've, well you know what we've been doing for months now. It's all over the fucking television, isn't it? The whole world knows. I'm worried when he's not freaking the fuck out." Sebastian was at least making tea. He was being useful.

It was all cushioned in a way, as though he couldn't or perhaps simply didn't want to think. It didn't matter, not really, not at the moment. The police were involved, doubtless Scotland Yard would be calling. A fuck all mess, really, and Sebastian knew how to make them seem harmless. He had the plans in place, it was only a matter of being certain they were properly executed.

"He'll hurt himself or you if you just let him have these episodes, Sebastian. It's no wonder, and doubtless you need something as well."

It was really just a matter of making sure he didn't personally fuck it up. "I just don't want someone randomly drugging him. I'd rather wait it out." Sebastian's voice was low, muted down as Jim felt. "We haven't had a lot of choice in what's going on in a while."

"I know. I know, darling, it's just... I'm sure Randall thought it was for the best, what I saw was... it was extreme. He was going to hurt you or himself, it just..." She raked a hand through her short hair, a sign of frustration that Sebastian gave, as well. "All of it is such a horror. I can't help worrying."

"You don't know the half of it." The edge of his mouth twitched a little, and Sebastian added sugar to his mug. "Can I help make dinner or something? We got some pretzels in the station, and coffee, but that's been it for a while." Jim last remembered breakfast the day before, but he couldn't remember what had happened between then and being let go. They were cleaned and pricked for blood draws, though, and he was wearing Sebastian's old PT gear instead of his suit because clearly it had been mothballed.

He did miss his suits, terribly, but he took the mug when Sebastian gave it to him and sipped. Best, he thought, to seem harmless, to be nothing more than Sebastian's odd boyfriend, emotionally wrecked and not a little mad. That was all right, then, that he could do. It didn't even take any thought.

"There's no need. Nancy has the girls, and I already called to ask Virginia to come by and cook. She does on nights when I'm at the hospital, and she said she didn't mind." Likely not, if Sebastian's sister had mentioned the news.

"Folks from the Yard say when they were coming by?" Jim had the oddest urge to watch the news, to see exactly which bits of their lives were out there and what the media was saying and what the spin was because then maybe he could work out how to get ahead of it. The fact was that he couldn't seem to raise the energy required to make the effort. It wasn't worth the time or trouble, and so instead he sipped his tea quietly and watched Sebastian.

"Sometime tomorrow. I refused to allow them to see you today, you're...." She bit her lip. "I just told them not today."

"Can I borrow your laptop?" Sebastian would just keep asking for things to do. That was how he was, he was a doer. She should have just let him cook dinner. It would have kept him busy, and being busy meant that he didn't have to think about things.

There seemed to be quite a lot about which to think if he weren't busy. Jim didn't have that problem; he could lose himself quite well in the fall of dust motes, the way he was just now.

Sabrina reached for the kettle and poured a mug of tea. "Of course, darling. I'll put together something to snack on and bring it to you in the guest room, if you like."

She wanted Jim tucked away somewhere in case he started screaming again, and he knew it. He just didn't care. "All right. But let me help with dinner tomorrow. I just... I'd like to do things again."

Something besides taking care of Jim, which was bound to drive a man to drink at some point, surely. He couldn't well blame anyone for getting tired of that. He wasn't himself, hadn't been himself in a long time, and that was worrisome in so many ways.

It made him wonder what he'd be like when he finally got clear of it all. Maybe Sebastian would smarten up and leave him. He couldn't be blamed if he did.

"All right. C'mon, baby. Back upstairs and you can sleep and eat."

Sleep, which sounded good because that bastard physician had poked him with something. He scowled, for all the good it did, and then rose, mug still in hand. "All right."

* * *

The media was full of fucking bastards, bastards with comments to make. If he were feeling more together and not lying sprawled on the guest bed with a laptop balanced on his leg, an arm around Jim while they ate salty cheese crackers, he would've put together a hit list.

He would doubtless find a way to make one later; find a way, make a list, and destroy them one by one by one. It might take years.

It would be worth it.

Jim was listless beside him, nibbling at the crackers, paying little or no actual attention to what Sebastian was doing. Sabrina's friend belonged on his future list, as well.

He'd give it a couple of years, so no one suspected anything except an overworked physician drowning in his tub. A slip and done. Such a shame. Sebastian snuck a cracker, and went back to trying to find more than the suggestion of _graphic video content involving the assassinated government official and two unnamed men. The man's brother turned the videos over to police and reported that the two men were found in abhorrent condition in the basement. Their whereabouts are unknown, and police are investigating._

That bastard Sherlock would have them out there, he would have them somewhere they could be found. No allusions, no still photos, but the actual thing. Damned shame that Jim seemed to have no interest; the laptop might as well not be there, and when Jim didn't want to play with technology, it scared Sebastian no small amount.

He just needed Jim to come around. They were free, they were out, and Sebastian's mind was spinning with a hundred things he wanted to do, too unfocused to be of any fucking use. He'd start with the video, and understand that the police probably had everything. 

It ended up being hosted on a sleazy media site, and Sebastian clicked on it, just to see what the leaked video was. Or one of them.

He wished to god that he hadn't three minutes after that, because there was Jim, held down by men in masks, one at each arm and leg. He was kneeling to the side, chained tightly to the wall and pulling all the same, while Mycroft Holmes had his hand underneath that fluff of pink dress, doing something. Sebastian damned well knew what; he didn't want to think on it, though. Not truly, not ever.

"Oh," Jim offered faintly.

Jim moaned in the video, and Sebastian shifted, pulled at Jim and watched him shiver on the laptop. "Christ. I hate watching him touch you." Fist him. He hated the idea of the man taking Jim apart like that, marking and stretching him and he had no right. He missed their own games, missed... missed a lot.

Missed just about fucking everything, in point of fact, and Jim turned in towards him, face pressed against Sebastian's shoulder. "You shouldn't have tried coming after me. It was stupid."

"It was miserable out there with you gone. Pretending to be you, pretending to hold it all together, getting those fucking notes from fucking Holmes." He watched Jim cry out, arms buckling out underneath of him. It wasn't erotic. It wasn't hot or sexy or fucking anything except a horror, and he wasn't even sure why he was watching it.

"I know." Knew because it was probably just that bad without Sebastian, or at least he figured so.

Maybe because that had been how it had been for so long, and it was strange. He knew, vaguely remembered how it went. At one point, Jim started trying to crawl away, and that had been miserable, Mycroft using Jim's dick to hold him in place with his other hand. Sebastian closed the video, and the laptop lid, curling into Jim and scattering cheese crackers on the bed. "Fuck. Fuck. What's wrong with us?"

Reaching out, Jim plucked a cheese cracker from Sebastian's thigh and put it in his mouth. "Nothing. Or quite a few things in fact." It didn't seem to bother him, but Jim was strange sometimes.

Then again, that video might well be the reason he was avoiding technology.

"We're free. We can do anything again, go anywhere." Because they were out, out out, and for the moment just sitting there almost felt like too much.

"Except we aren't." He was too calm about it, too something. Too not at all Jim, in point of fact, and the way he was petting Sebastian wasn't much himself, either. It was something he had started doing after Holmes kept them both apart for so long, touching Sebastian. Holding onto him as though that could help him when the time came that they would be parted again. "We are free to do nothing. Soon, Sebastian."

"Well, we will be. We're free to plan," Sebastian murmured, kissing Jim's temple. He smelled better, even if they both smelled of Jeremy's current brand of Old Spice. Something with coconuts. "We weren't even that before."

Jim gave a quiet sound, sighed. "I can't think as yet." Not properly, and that was clear, but that was whatever shit Holmes had been putting in his food, making him take. It clouded him, made his thoughts muddy. Made him sleep even when it was clear he didn't want to do anything except get away from the stupid princess bedroom where Holmes had him stuffed.

Even when he crawled into the closet to hide, he still had that amount of sense left to him despite the drugs.

"Okay. I'm probably not doing so hot, either. So I'm probably behind you right now more than usual." They were safe and alone, and he really wanted to strip Jim naked and have him. He wanted to remove the memory of Holmes fisting him.

He wanted that. He wanted to make Jim his, wanted to make him all right, wanted him to know that this was it, this was them, and Holmes would never, ever touch him again.

Maybe if they dug up the corpse and dismembered it later, that would be good fun.

He tested the waters carefully, nudging kisses from Jim's temple down to his mouth. "I've missed you..." He still missed him, and it was fucked up but he had that compulsion to make Jim completely his and he'd never been afraid of that not being all right before.

For a moment, he was afraid that Jim would tell him no, would struggle, because he went desperately still when Sebastian settled the first kiss on his mouth; went still and shivered, eyes cutting sharply towards him, and then they closed and he parted his lips and let Sebastian inside.

It was a slow relaxation, while he slipped his tongue slowly between his lips. Just a taste, even if that taste was mostly Jim and cheese cracker as he twisted to slowly straddle him on the mattress. It seemed to be just fine with Jim, because his hand moved to cup at the back of his neck, fingers pressed warm and easy against the nape, thumb rubbing just behind his ear.

Oh, thank god.

He was mostly sure he didn't whimper into Jim's mouth, but it was easy to plaster himself onto Jim, to move with the thumb behind his ear, to slide fingers under Jim's t-shirt to palm his stomach. "Fuck, I missed you, Jim..."

Missed him, wanted him, been lonely for him even if they were together. They weren't _together_ , they were just in the same hell at the same time. 

It didn't seem to bother Jim in the least; he let Sebastian in, allowed his legs to part around him, and it was easy. It was so easy, and that wasn't at all like them. It was different, it was apart, and something about it seemed off.

He missed when Jim would tease him and fight him and injure him. He missed when he pushed and rolled and moved with, against, Sebastian, when he fought, and something wasn't right. He ground against him, trying to get a reaction.

At the very least, he was hard, and that was something. That was proper, that was right, but it still wasn't. Leaning up, he looked down at him, and Jim was looking back.

"Why are you stopping?" His dark eyes were inscrutable, neither saying that he wanted something or that he didn't.

"I have no idea if this is good or not." He said it with a twinge of regret in his voice, but fuck, the best he could do and not feel miserable and hate himself was to slide a hand between them, palming Jim's crotch. "You're. Out. The drugs?"

"Yeah," Jim agreed, and his mouth twitched at the edge. Sebastian was uncertain what that twitch was all about, but then he tilted his head just so and looked up at him. "Fuck me." He meant it, Sebastian was pretty sure, it was just... strange.

He shifted, rucking up Jim's t-shirt, an old unit shirt of his that the printing worn mostly off of, and Christ, even if Jim was hard to place, his unit would recognise him. The chains might even make it worse, easier? Harder? Fuck, fuck. Sebastian leaned in, kissed Jim's neck. "Lemme find lube. Something."

It was a fucking misery without, and he could practically feel Jim thinking about it before he finally nodded and let him up. It took a few minutes, mostly because he was scrabbling through drawers in the guest bath, and there was just... what in the hell, surely his sister had something, somewhere, and he nearly yelled in frustration before he found a tube of lotion stuffed in the back of the cabinet beneath the sink.

Thank fucking god.

There was no reason for lotion to be that hard to find, and there was no point in condoms then because hell. Hell. He came back with the pump bottle of lotion, and slid in beside Jim, fingers of one hand already lotiony. Jim seemed all right with that, and he leaned up on an elbow, squirming out of Sebastian's loose PT shorts. At least there was that much to reassure Sebastian that he actually wanted it, because the last thing he wanted was for him to do otherwise. He'd been with Jim too long to contemplate that they were over just because they were out at last, or he'd somehow fucked it all up by trying to help, or he didn't know. Everything was too unsteady, but settling in against Jim, a knee between his legs and fingers stroking his cock smoothly, that felt right. Normal, and the languid tilt of Jim's head was almost right. Almost, and he drew a deep breath into his chest, then grinned up at Sebastian, and oh. Oh, that was good, that was just right. Perfect, and Jim reached up and pulled him closer, catching his mouth. Yes, that. That, and Jim laughed, soft and a little edged, and that. That was it, right there, exactly.

Perfect. It took his nerves down, made the knot in his chest ease up as he slid his fingers back to push them into Jim. "Mine. And missed you."

Missed him so much, missed Jim being himself, and he dropped his head back against the pillows and opened his mouth to give a little sound. Just one, small, nothing at all like the fake moans and groans he'd been offering up for months. "Yes. Yes."

It was a soft noise, low in his throat as he eased his fingers in, twisting them in the way Jim had used to like. He felt looser now, more easily stretched, and that was pretty horrifying, but he was watching Sebastian with want, with heat, and that was amazing. That was _something_ , and it felt like it had been so long since they'd had anything at all. Anything that wasn't forced on them, supervised and guided, and fucking hadn't been on the menu in their free time together. He was usually recovering, or Jim was, and now they were all right. Sebastian took his time, kissing him now and then as he worked his fingers back out to slick himself up.

Jim was watching him and he reached up, snagged a hand in Sebastian's hair and tugged. "Closer," he murmured, and wrapped one leg around him as he blanketed his body, slipping in skin to skin until they were both pressed flush together. "Come on."

The hand in his hair felt good as he shifted, pushed into Jim. There wasn't a lot of room to move, just room to thrust, to hold onto Jim as he moved into him, inexorable push and shift and move, and then Jim laughed, He laughed and that was such a relief, as much a relief as the hands pulling on him, stroking over his shoulders.

Thank god.

Getting a response from Jim felt so good, to hear him really make those few soft noises that were real, to feel him pulling at Sebastian's shoulders. It goaded him on, a funny desperate edge rising up as he started fucking him.

"Fuck." It was a breath, a word slipping past those lips, and Jim wrapped his leg around Sebastian's, heel pressing him close as he arched up and into those motions. "Fuck, yes, I..."

"Feel so good," Sebastian groaned, thrusting harder, slowly. He could feel the close dig of Jim's heel against his thighs, the tightness, the way he was squeezing around him in a steady effort. He was panting, breath hot and wet against Sebastian's shoulder and his throat, and his hands were tight on him, so fucking gorgeous and perfect, perfect, and this. This was why he had gone in after him, this was why he had gone to Mycroft Holmes, this...

This.

He lost track of what he was doing except that it was a little urgent, that he desperately wanted to keep fucking Jim, that he could, that they could do whatever they wanted soon. Jim kept making those tiny noises, clinging tightly, and so Sebastian leaned on his elbow and reached between them, fingers shaking even as he caught Jim's dick and began to stroke.

He wanted to drive Jim to it, fuck him while he was coming and then keep going, wanted to push all of the recent memories and bits of thought out of his head. He wanted Jim to go to pieces under him and every push into him seemed to further that goal until they were both shaking, and when Jim came, it was fucking amazing. It was everything he had wanted for much too long.

In a small guest room of his sister's house, on a pile of old clothes, wrapped up in Jim. His breath was still warm, lingering as Sebastian slumped comfortably onto him, keeping his weight up on his elbows as he licked his fingers.

Mmmm.

Yes, and Jim gave a little laugh, lips brushing Sebastian's temple. "That. Yes."

"I'm kneeling on a cracker." Sebastian stayed there, kneeling and not quite moving until he was too soft even to have a hope of getting it up again.

Fingers stroked over his neck, thumb rubbing at his hairline. "Good thing we didn't pull down the covers, then."

He turned his head in toward Jim's fingers, shifting to sprawl out beside him. "Mmmm. Let me grab a tissue." A whole box of them.

Reaching out, Jim caught his hand and pulled it up, kissing the center of his palm. "Sure. Go."

Surprisingly affectionate, but Jim had always been playful and at ease in bed, which was good because they spent enough time in it. He rolled off the bed, and grabbed his boxers to pull on before starting out into the hall. He'd shut the door behind him before he saw Sabrina sitting at the head of the stairs, a cigarette lying unlit between her fingers.

Well. Crap.

"Do you think that's the best idea? Not telling you how to live your life. Just..." Worrying.

"We've been partners for years, Brina. Years. We had a flat on Conduit Street and Jim's stupid gas efficient car, and a cat that probably starved to death while we were... Not sure why it could be a bad idea." And there was their real life nested under that, but they were both in agreement on what cover to use.

It didn't matter, not with Sabrina. Not really, but she was still sitting there, nibbling on her lower lip. "I've known you all your life, Basty. That isn't anywhere near all of the story. Can't be."

"Jim made some shitty business decisions that introduced us to Mr. Holmes." He shrugged his shoulders as he leaned against the wall, watching her. "And then Jim didn't come back after a trip like he was supposed to."

He'd expected Jim to be held; hell, they both had. Jim had assured him that it was fine, part of the Plan. The Plan, which was quite frankly beginning to scare the complete and utter shit out of him at the time. If he had realised where it all was going, he would have been even more terrified.

"And how did you end up there, Basty? Why didn't you call someone, call me, call the police, I..."

"He's the fucking British government. I mean, he was watching my every movement. He started leaving notes with people at places I went, taunting me with what he was doing to Jim. I just... went to his place to see if I could negotiate with him."

And he had. He had, that much was true. He had hoped he could make some kind of deal or, or get Holmes to agree to something. Anything.

It had been a miserable failure, of course, but it had been all he had.

"Yeah." She wasn't stupid, she had to see that what he said was true. "Yeah, I know, I really do, just...."

He was tired and all fucked out and he didn't feel like having this conversation right now.

"Just what?" He ran a hand back through his hair. It wasn't like Jim was some twink he'd picked up on the street.

"Just I don't even know what to say, Basty. I haven't any notion. I don't know where to start or, or how, and I'm so worried." Yeah. Yeah, and Jim had said that their father knew about it. She didn't miss things. That had to be on her mind, as well.

"He blackmailed Father," Sebastian offered, just to add to it, to remind her. "He probably thought we were there willingly. I don't know. The collar had a GPS in it, and explosives. It wasn't like I was going anywhere."

"But he _knew_ , Sebastian!" She spat it out. "Father knew, and he did nothing. He left you there, Sebastian, and I... I can't, I can't...."

"Yeah. You don't want to hear about that. Blackmail. Pretty unappealing incident, all in all. Look, I'm going to grab a flannel and nap for a while, all right?"

Anything just to get away, to be with Jim and not have to worry about anybody or anything else. "Yeah." Yeah, even if she didn't mention it. Even if she probably wanted to keep her eyes on him, just at a guess.

"I've been with Jim since I was discharged," Sebastian said, wandering into the bathroom, and turning the tap on to run it warm as he grabbed a cloth. "I don't, you don't need to worry about that."

When he turned, she was standing in the doorway. "I'll always worry about you, sweetheart. Always."

He couldn't bring himself to kiss her just then, not knowing where his mouth had been. "Let's just hope none of the other videos get released."

Damn. That was something he shouldn't have said, not at all, and the way she went pale made him realise it a bit too late. "Oh god."

"Well." He shrugged his shoulders, turning off the bathroom light to walk past her. "He was a freak who loved recording everything."

Everything, and then Sebastian nearly stumbled because Sabrina stepped close and slid her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Oh, Sebastian."

He half-hugged her, still holding onto the damp flannel. "You don't know half of how bad it was, and I don't want you to know, all right? I'm just glad to be out and to have Jim."

It was all for the best that she didn't know any more than that. It was, and he felt even more awkward than he had previously when she pulled away damp-eyed. "Okay. Okay, sweetheart."

He gestured vaguely to the guest room. "We're going to sleep for a couple of hours and then, uh. Get up, help with dinner." Help eat dinner, but that was better than nothing. It was fine, in fact, all of it, because they were out now. They were free, and Sabrina nodded and let him go.

He headed back to the bedroom, and found that Jim had squirmed the sheets down and had half cleaned himself up with Sebastian's discarded shirt. It was enough to make a man smile. The fact that he was in possession of all of the pillows made him smile even more.

"You took too long," Jim murmured sleepily. 

"Yeah, I suck. My sister wanted a chat." He wasn't even sure what she'd been angling for. Was there some expected time after sexual captivity, after rape, where people weren't supposed to sleep together?

He held the flannel out towards Jim and knelt on the bed to see what else there was to be cleaned. It earned him a yawn and a wave of one hand, but he still kept hold of the pillows. It was clear that he wasn't going to give them up willingly, or maybe clear that he wanted to see what Sebastian would do to get one. Either way.

He swiped at Jim's stomach with cloth, and slid in beside him, trying to weasel his arm in enough to get a bit. "You're gorgeous."

"Surprised you can still think so." And that was painful just to consider. "After everything."

He shook his head, nose pressed up against Jim's neck "You're Jim Moriarty. And you're still like nothing else the world has seen. I'd do anything for you."

That smile. God, he fucking lived for that smile, for the way that Jim seemed to fall perfectly calm. "You are the single constant in the world, Sebastian Moran."

"Good. I'm glad you've let me be that constant." And his sister, with her sense of propriety, could go fuck herself. He settled in, close, and comfortable, with Jim's breath smelling like cheese crackers.

* * *

Cheese crackers hadn't been enough but they had both been exhausted. They had somehow slept through dinner, and breakfast seemed as though it might have passed as well considering the slant of light when Sebastian finally managed to nudge Jim awake. It got him a morning breath yawn and a general shift, but not much more.

"Jim. Gonna get breakfast. You going to be all right?" He rubbed fingers over Jim's stomach.

That got him a muttered answer and a slow rolling over and a bit more towards him. "Bring me something good." Good meaning scrambled eggs and toast, most likely, or even a scrambled egg sandwich. Jim was sometimes a picky eater, but he quite liked scrambled eggs for some reason.

It was the salt and pepper and egg taste, he guessed. Jim had always been a fan of protein, and haute cuisine when the urge to eat did strike. Not that striking ever meant... cooking. "And juice." He needed to get Jim to drink more, but he'd never cared for water.

"And juice. And jam." Right. Toast it would be, then, and Jim rolled over, snagged his pillow, and damned near pulled it from beneath Sebastian's head.

It was a good thing he was already getting up when Jim did it. It made it easier to get out of bed then, to roll to his feet and pull on sweatpants, to scrounge in the drawer for a t-shirt that wasn't cummy. Spending time at his sister's did have its advantages; she'd had enough clothing of his left over and around from his many short stays that neither of them would be naked anytime soon, that much was certain.

Once dressed, he wandered out of the bedroom on bare feet, heading downstairs at a steady pace. He could hear the girls yammering away down near the nursery, and that was calming, normal for Sabrina's household. Normality of any sort was something he appreciated these days.

It was quieter there. There was shopping laid in, and he didn't have to think overmuch as he craned his neck to look for his sister, his brother-in-law, on his way to the kitchen. If he didn't see them it was all right -- he did know his way around a kitchen, and he could appreciate the chance to spend a bit of time on his own without anyone on top of him or trying to involve him in conversation. He didn't want to talk, he just wanted to _be_ , to be free, to be with Jim, to get their shit together. That wasn't too much to ask for, he didn't think.

He pulled out a bowl, and got eggs and a skillet. The milk was easy to find even if he found himself being quiet so he could maybe savour another few moments of that pure and holding silence. It didn't take long for him to get the eggs finished, and he started the toast after that. Why his sister had no pop-up toaster was beyond his own imagination, but it gave him time to dig out jam and poke around until he found dishes and had coffee. When he couldn't find a tray, he scrounged up a baking sheet and loaded it up with the plates and cups before heading back upstairs.

He was halfway up the steps before he heard his sister behind him, and another male voice. "Hey, Brina. I'll wash the skillet out after we eat." It was as good and casual a hello as he could manage knowing she had company.

"Basty!" Her voice was a little more pointed than he would like. "It's the police. Whenever you're ready."

Yeah, they were never going to be ready for that.

"Yeah, uh." He stopped on the stairs, eying the grey haired Yarder. DI Lestrade, then, making sympathetic faces because he was basically a nice guy. Jim had said as much months ago, and he was spot on about some things.

"When you're done with breakfast and all is fine," Lestrade offered, glancing at Sabrina.

"Okay." He lingered, gave him a wary look as he finished mounting the stairs. Christ, that was going to be a shitshow. "Jim?"

"I'm waiting," Jim called back, and he was, sleepy-eyed and flushed with sleep when he slipped into the guest room. Sebastian hated to tell him that Lestrade was downstairs. He nudged the door closed again with his shoulder and wondered if Jim would just read it off of him like he used to; he might, and he was watching Sebastian come in with the tray, set it down. His expression was completely inscrutable, and finally he sighed. "Oh."

"Might as well eat before he starts," Sebastian said as agreeably as he could manage, offering Jim toast first. His nose wrinkled, and then he shifted, mouth twitching its way into a scowl. For a moment, he thought that breakfast was going to be refused, but then Jim took it and bit into the jam-laden bread viciously.

"I hope they all die horribly." It was such a year three pronouncement, and the sulky expression was adorable.

"Food before you start to hate people," Sebastian said, sitting down as he picked up a piece of his own toast.

Verbal agreement might have been nice, but the fact that Jim kept chewing and then reached for a fork was enough. At least he was eating and not bitching or downright refusing to participate. Things might get worse as they went along because whatever drugs Holmes had been giving him would undoubtedly begin to wear off, and he was a little worried about what would happen then.

He expected Jim would crack apart, that things would go to hell in a fucking hand basket when that happened, and yeah. Yeah that was coming. He knew it was, but he could still worry. He was going to worry, as he ate every other bite, attention quite firmly on Jim, who seemed to be enjoying his eggs. He always did when Sebastian made them. He might be a picky bitch about other things, but Sebastian's eggs weren't on that list.

Jim did start to eat slowly, though, fork finally dawdling in the last couple of bites, toast in one hand. It was clear that he was trying to put off the end of breakfast, maybe thinking. Maybe not, but they were going to have to stop putting things off whether they liked it or not.

"Wanna rip off that bandaid?" He leaned in, pressed his mouth against Jim's temple. He huffed in response and then ate the last bite of egg before speaking.

"Let's get this over and done."

It wasn't an order, but it was enough of a call to action to get Sebastian to stand up, gathering up breakfast bits to put back on the tray. He dug into the drawer to get clothes for Jim, more sweat pants, another t-shirt. "I don't think I left a single piece of real clothing here..."

It didn't matter. Clean clothes were something, and it clearly didn't bother Jim if he smelled like sex. It didn't much bother Sebastian, either. They had smelled like that on too many occasions, and Jim just tugged on the things Sebastian gave him. It made him look a little like a kid, everything too big until he rolled up the legs and hitched the t-shirt onto his shoulder a bit better. Then he looked like an angry little chavvy, but Sebastian slid an arm over his shoulders and steered him toward the door until Jim seemed to find his own momentum.

He couldn't blame him for not wanting to go downstairs; fuck, neither one of them wanted to talk about it, but they were accustomed to doing shit that neither of them wanted to do these days.

Jim thumped his way down the stairs ahead of him, and Sebastian could almost see the storm cloud above his head as he moved. He didn't want to deal with it, either, but if they could get it behind them, and get space, and maybe recover for a couple more weeks before they disappeared into the wind, he would've been deeply pleased. "Sorry we took so long."

That caught everyone's attention, and Sebastian's blood went cold when faces turned towards them.

Sherlock fucking Holmes.

"Why is he here?" Jim's voice was thin, edged with something, and who the hell could blame him?

"I wanted to apologise. For not intervening sooner." He half stood from his chair, and Sebastian caught himself in the awkward position of trying to give someone cover from behind them on the stairs. 

"You can fuck off, mate. All right? You can fuck right off."

Sabrina looked shocked, and Lestrade had an expression that looked kind of like he had a dog who'd just shit on the carpet in front of a guest. "Dammit."

Yeah, dammit, like that made any fucking difference. Holmes didn't look shocked or pleased or much of fucking anything. "Send him away. Now!"

"What the hell. What the, get out!" Sebastian got onto the step ahead of Jim trying to get him back up the stairs before, fuck, he wasn't sure what he was expecting. That Jim might lunge at him, but the panic was real.

Christ.

Christ, he'd dealt so well with it, with Sherlock when they'd had to experience it, but now he was clearly coming un-fucking-glued.

"Go on," Lestrade instructed sharply. "Go, you can't help here or apologise enough, I..."

"You thought this was a good idea?" His sister was about to hit a pitch he usually only heard when she was threatening him with death.

Jim was smaller than him. He had a lower centre of gravity and he knew how to use it. Getting him back up the stairs was probably too ambitious, but getting him to sit on the stairs was doable, and Sebastian could keep him pinned as Sherlock got up with a faux air of apology about him. "I thought I might help."

"The fuck!" Sebastian wasn't surprised at his sister's language; he was more startled by the frantic way Jim was clinging to him and shaking, and that wasn't normal. Then again, nothing was, and he had no idea what the fuck to do about it.

"I'm going." He walked past them, and made hard unerring eye contact with Sebastian as he headed for the door. Christ. Christ on a stick, what the fuck was he supposed to do? Clearly he was supposed to understand but he didn't. He fucking didn't, and Jim was struggling beneath him, fighting just as violently as he ever had. It was nearly silent, all panting breaths and struggle, and he wore out quickly, going limp in his grasp.

"C'mon, Jim. It's okay. It's okay." Because Christ, yes, he was smart and he could follow inference and that was a _Don't Mention Me_ order if he'd ever seen one, but how the fuck was he supposed to explain it?

The way Jim clung to him was unspeakable and _wrong_ , and Sabrina was talking to Lestrade, blah blah blah blah, and he didn't give two damns what they were talking about. He just gave a damn about Jim, kissing his temple, holding him tightly.

He started rocking him in sort of a desperate hope to get him to snap out of it, because he couldn't process what had just happened, how _easy_ it was for Sherlock just to waltz into their lives, his sister's fucking house, with the damn police helping him.

God, he didn't even know what to do. How to deal with this, and he was near tears when Jim's mouth whispered wet against his ear. "Let's go."

It stunned the shit out of him, made his voice turn towards a whinge of a noise as he pulled at Jim, trying to haul him to his feet. "C'mon, please, Jim, please..."

Please, and he went with Sebastian easily, rubbing at his face. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes damp, but also a little triumphant. "I can't. I won't, I won't. Talk to him, I won't."

"We'll have to. We do have to, there was a crime, we were harmed." He pulled at him, still heading unerringly to the bedroom. "Maybe I can just..." Testify for them, give his statement, and then they'd leave Jim the fuck alone.

He was afraid to think of how he would try to get out of it otherwise.

"I just want to kill him." It was blatant, and a bit loud for Sebastian's comfort. God. It was undoubtedly true, though; he probably wanted to kill Sherlock even more than he had before he'd been detained.

"C'mon, let's uh. Sleep. Put a movie in, okay? You need to just hang in, everything will get better." They had a laptop, they could sit there with a movie, he could just surrender it to Jim and then give his statement. God, if Sherlock fucking Holmes demanded to see him, he might kill him then and there.

Jim seemed calmer in some ways once they had settled in. It was all relative, because he went from one edge to the next the last few hours, and it was completely reasonable that he would. It was, because he was supposed to be a fucking wreck. They both were, so there was nothing wrong with that.

If he kept reassuring himself of it maybe he'd believe it. Eventually.

He waited until he was sure Jim was okay and engaged, and then he slipped off to get him tea, and to see if the officer was still downstairs apologising to his sister.

The uncertainty as to whether it was a good sign or not lingered, made him nervous even as he listened to the sound of voices from downstairs.

"I am so sorry, I had no idea when he asked to come that they might recognise him or have that sort of..."

"No matter how many times you say it, it won't change the fact that you did and they did and I am two seconds from making a call to my solicitor so you had best come up with something damn quickly because you will be lucky if I ever, ever, let you see them again." She was dead damned serious in that statement, too

"Hey. I uh...." He lingered at the bottom of the stairs. "Uh, was going to put tea on for Jim. He's watching kid shit on youtube."

Bizarre, but true. He'd stopped trying to hide his addiction to the Muppets long ago, and the general trend of kid's stuff held true because once he'd had enough of the old guys in the balcony, he'd doubtless head on to Horrible Histories.

"Colonel Moran, I am so sorry. I..."

"He was standing there with that fucking PA when she opened the door to the fucking _cell_ we'd been living in. What did _he_ tell you?" Sebastian snapped.

Clearly something entirely different because the good DI turned a little pale at that and couldn't even think of anything to say.

"Christ. Sebastian, I swear, one day you will sit down and tell me everything and I will die of shock," Sabrina snapped. At least his sister was fantastically reliable. He loved her for it, even if he occasionally yelled back.

"Yeah, you probably will. And I'm trying, I'm fucking trying to hold it together, and you let him waltz right in. We're never going to be free of the fucking Holmeses, not even if that bastard's dead." He was shaking, pissed, and really wanted nothing more than to go upstairs and empty his brain right along with Jim, at least until he got to watching videos of horrible things the Russians had done with dogs.

That, at least, would make him feel better. If he couldn't torture Zetas, he would take what he could get.

"Out." Out, and Sabrina wasn't talking to him. She was talking to Lestrade, and he was still trying to mumble apologies. "Out, and send someone else. Someone who isn't you."

There was no bloody way they were going to give a statement at a station. He watched the man apologise one more time, and then finally leave. Christ, they needed to sue, to raise hell, to keep them on their toes. They needed _his_ Jim there, sparks and that agility, that mercurial sharpness. Doing something brilliant to get the exact outcome he wanted, which could be summed up as avoiding Holmes in any way he could. Probably so that he wouldn't stab the man in the eye or something, but still.

He pulled away to put the kettle on, and figured his sister would lock the door.

Waiting for the water to boil was a wretched pain in the ass, and it left too much time for Sabrina to kick out Lestrade and come looking for him.

"Don't want to talk about it," he offered as he heard her shoe tap onto the tile floor.

"I wasn't planning to make you talk about it." Yeah. She said that, but she was fucking sneaky. "I wanted to ask if you needed anything."

"Another blanket, maybe." They probably should've been in a hospital, he knew that, maybe a mental stabilisation wing. He didn't know what they called them anymore, because it'd been a fair while since he'd been anywhere near one. Crisis centre. "It's just. Trying to get used to everything again. Everything was so small for so long." It made holing up in the guest bedroom easy.

Sabrina nodded, leaned a hip against the counter. "I wish I could think of something to help. The blood's being run through the lab now. It'll be another day or so before I can say for sure what you were being given."

"I don't think I was being given anything. I just had a bomb strapped to my neck." Which sort of got to a man after a while. "I'm worried what he was giving Jim. He was... sedated so far back into himself for so long."

That made her gnaw on her lip, her fingers fidgeting with her necklace. "Describe it to me?"

"Describe what?" He shrugged his shoulders a little as he grabbed two clean mugs. "The pills? Little orangey pink things." And they hadn't needed drugs to keep him in line, just fear and a solid understanding that they could reach out and touch him at any moment anywhere. That they could do horrible things to Jim and no one could stop them.

Clearly the description wasn't enough to trigger recognition, and Sabrina continued to fidget. "All right. Maybe that will be enough to narrow it down some once we've got some of the tests back."

He shrugged his shoulders. "It gave him trouble thinking. Between that and what Holmes was doing..." It probably wasn't a wonder that Jim was upstairs watching light television, but that had always sort of been a habit of his. He'd sit staring at his laptop for whatever project he was working on and suddenly Sebastian would look up and he'd be watching Irish comedians on youtube.

Or worse.

Shifting, Sabrina began digging in the cabinets, dragging out things that he supposed were meant to tempt someone into eating or something. "It's understandable."

"No, it's. Frustrating for him. He's so much smarter than I am, Brina, and I know it's killing him that this..." Happened, that he hadn't been able to do anything, that Holmes had beaten him down.

That it hadn't gone the way he had expected it to go.

"We'll get him help. We'll get you help, because honestly, Sebastian, you both need all the help anyone can give you right now. I know you don't want to hear it." That was the god's honest truth. "You know I'll do whatever you need me to do."

"I want to get this shit with the police over. He had accomplices. A lot of them. He had two fucking gunmen guarding Jim when I got there." He ran a hand back through his hair. "And I don't know what comes next."

It startled him when she reached out to touch him, hand pausing before she actually did. "You just keep living, Sebastian."

"Surviving is all we've been doing." It was hard to admit that as he looked at her. "We had a life, plans, a business and... Then, fucking Holmes happened."

The web of crime Jim had been working had clearly fallen into disuse, fallen apart. He had no idea what there would be left, had no way of predicting it, and Jim... well. He wasn't anywhere near enough to being himself to be able to pick it up just now.

"Basty." Christ. Christ, fucking _hugs_.

He'd managed to juggle it for a while until Mycroft had gotten too amused by him, keeping him closer and closer to the house, less freewheeling. "No, no, it's..." Fuck. Fuck, he'd ruined them is what he'd done and now with those videos out there, Jim twisting on Holmes's fucking fist, whatever he'd managed to keep together had probably brilliantly shattered.

Christ.

It took a moment to realise that the person gasping for breath was himself, that the world had changed position in that missing gap of time. Sabrina's hand was on the back of his neck and his head was between his knees where he was sitting on the kitchen floor.

Fuck.

"Fuck! Fuck! Who's going to do business with us after all that shit on the news? How the hell am I supposed to...?" To do anything, because Jim would go around the bend the rest of the way if he didn't have something to do.

Oh god oh god oh god. Oh god.

"Just keep breathing, sweetheart. Keep... Goddammit, would you just agree to take something if I swear that it's nothing bad?"

He shook his head, gulping in breaths between failed words and sobs before he started to nod. "It's just all fucking over..."

"Hey, hey." She stepped away for a minute and it made him want to flail, arms wrapping around himself as if that would help anything. "Hey." Water, a pill, and he took the fucking thing. It was weird and a little chalky and he wrinkled his nose. "There we go."

He swallowed, and breathed in hard, trying to get himself together. "Fuck. Fuck. I just, Christ. Christ. I can't even strangle the bastard!"

The way she petted him should be a relief. "Well, darling, I'm fairly certain there is media footage of the shot that got the man. His head sort of. Exploded."

"Not fair. I wanted him to live to be ruined. I wanted him to, to know that he was going to have a long and fucking empty future, and he went and got killed..." He was whinging and he knew it. The fuzziness of whatever she had given him was working through him, and oh. Hey.

Huh.

"There, sweetheart. There. It's all right." Maybe not, if his sister was talking about the way that his head exploded. Something about that wasn't right.

He wasn't sure how long it took to stop sobbing, how long it took for him to process that his sister had suggested they look for footage of that online. It wasn't right, though. That Holmes was dead instead of suffering. "I was... I was gonna bring tea?"

"Mmm, yes." Yes, and she was still petting him, her chin hooked over his arm just so. "But I'll fetch it. Bring biscuits. Why don't you go upstairs and see what your Jim is doing?"

He started to stand up, slowly, unsteadily, because it felt as though crying like that had made everything shake apart. He didn't look his sister in the eye. He couldn't, and fuck. Might not ever be able to do it again, and clearly that meant he was going to need to figure out somewhere else to go. To be.

Maybe that was for the best.

"I'll bring up tea in a bit, sweetheart."

"Thanks." As soon as they got their shit together, it was time to go somewhere else. It was just time to move on. New lives, new country, somewhere that wasn't as damn small as England. Somewhere that people would be one hell of a lot less likely to recognise them, and damn straight they'd find something else to distract them within a week.

One hand pressed against the wall, he made his way into the guest room, feeling off-balance.

"Sebastian?"

"Sorry, sorry, got... got sidetracked." He shook his head a little and managed to push the door open, heading unerringly to the bed.

That snort was at least familiar. "It looks quite a bit more like you found the liquor."

"Sister drugged me. Let her. But. Let's give it a couple of days, see what bank accounts are up, and then go? I'm, this isn't us." Being coddled, being safe like that wasn't them, and he pulled, fumbled at the sheets.

Jim watched him, let him do all of the tugging and pulling he liked. He never once shifted the laptop from its place on his legs. "That sounds quite a bit better than this."

He curled around Jim, looping an arm around his waist as he halfway laid behind him, content to be more of a pillow than anything else. "My sister said there was video of the assassination."

"Ohhhh." That bloodthirsty little sound made him seem much more like himself, enough that Sebastian gave a sigh of relief. "Let's find it then, shall we?"

He tucked his chin against Jim's side, hugging onto him as he started to look. "Please."

Yeah. That would make him feel one hell of a lot better, actually. If they were lucky, there wouldn't be any sign of the video Sherlock fucking Holmes had released -- just the lovely, lovely explosion of Mycroft's head.

* * *

They were set up in a not too shitty hotel for a while until they could find something classy to rent out, a penthouse or a place with a pool, or... Something sharp and sleek and Jim. He was already at work, had bought new laptops and devices before they had left the UK, and he had been nose deep in them on the plane. He seemed to have things settled, but he wasn't quite ready as yet to talk penthouse suites.

Yet.

Sebastian figured everyone in town would know they had money to spare before the week was out.

He was content to play cards on the fringes, to sit down and do blackjack and poker and count, sure, but who wouldn't count if they had the mental acuity to do it? Being smart wasn't a crime, and it was kind of thrilling to get back to... life.

Sabrina had understood. And Jim wasn't leaving his side. He was glued there, in fact, aside from bathroom treks. Sometimes he was attached then, too.

He had absolutely no intention of bitching about it, either.

Jim was sitting in a chair all of a foot away from him, just in his line of sight. The dealer had gotten a bit pissy about him being any closer, since he continued to fuck around with his phone, but Jim had been pretty calm about it, all things considered.

Things had been... Up and down and up and down. They'd had one good bout of screaming hysteria that had ended in booze and room service. Given that everything'd had been turned upside down and inside out, he didn't much mind that there were spikes of horrible, that he got freaked the fuck out when people stood behind him, that Jim was tagging him everywhere, or was it him tagging Jim?

It didn't matter; either way, they were sticking to one another a lot more tightly than ever before, and maybe that should be disturbing. Maybe it should be a lot of things, but they could manage. They were managing, and he laid his next bet with confidence.

Jim never once flinched. Not until the waitress came through, and then he bared his teeth at her. It wasn't a growl, wasn't anything overtly meant to drive someone away, but it definitely threw her for a loop because she legged it in fairly short order.

He grinned at the dealer, leaned over to pet Jim's wrist. "Easy, sweetheart, easy..."

Funnily enough, he got the same sort of look. Difference was he enjoyed it, even when Jim leaned in close and snapped.

Ha.

He leaned back, grinning as he glanced at his cards again. "Hit me."

The rest of the game went pretty well, all things considered. He was down a couple thousand at one point, then back up again without much trouble. They had the money to throw away if they needed to, or even if they wanted to. Didn't much matter, but it was nice to win. He liked winning. It felt good, although maybe not as good as realising that Jim had actually decided to take up the waitress on her offer. From the looks of it, he was enjoying whatever it was. Some kind of martini.

That probably didn't mix well with the shit Sabrina had given him to jack him down off of the shit Holmes had given him.

It was a decent buffer for him, sort of bridging the hellacious gap because cold turkey after all of those drugs had been a bad idea. Still, he could finish a hand, they could wander the streets, maybe Jim could lift a wallet or two, and then it was back to the suite.

"You should try one," Jim offered. He didn't try to wave anyone down and order him one, though. "It's nice."

"I don't like to drink and gamble. I can get drunk after we finish this hand." He smiled at the dealer, who was probably happy at the thought of him leaving.

Jim took that for gospel, waving a hand and going back to texting and drinking. Honestly, it was probably one of those things on the list of Things One Shouldn't Do. Drinking and driving. Driving and texting. Texting and drinking. Whatever the fuck.

Being them and doing anything. He'd get a yard long and they could get wasted and pretend they were normal tourists. He kept working with the dealer, playing it and toying with the poor fucker before he finally cashed out, quite a bit richer. The kind of richer that would attract attention, eventually, but for now... for now, they were just playing, and he could try one of those giant fucking margaritas that looked like the Eiffel Tower. Tacky as shit, but so what? That was ninety percent of the fun of Vegas.

They were tourists, and they were getting a fucking pulse to know the lay of the land. It was necessary because Vegas wasn't London and they needed to listen and be for a while. And having fun was so much better than lying around his sister's guest bedroom.

Better than just about anything, in fact; enough so that it made him feel almost normal, almost all right. They would be, in time, but for now, pretending was kind of all right.

Jim was happily sucking down his martini, and he didn't object when Sebastian slipped his arm around his shoulder and began gently herding him closer to the edges of the casino floor. It was loud out there, and that was part of it. Getting used to the noises. Getting used to people, and to everyone minding their own business and to no one looking at them. No one cared as he sauntered up to the bar and paid in cash for a tacky drink that was supposed to taste of coconuts and blue.

"That is horrific." Yeah, but he didn't care, and he slurped from the stupid long straw, fast enough and hard enough that it gave him brain freeze.

"Go on, taste it. It's like a raspberry died inside of a coconut." He grinned, holding the straw over for Jim. He looked suspicious as fuck but then he leaned over and slurped and oh. Oh, that was probably brain freeze right there, too. 

Awesome. Amazing, and when Jim pulled away, he looked just a bit accusatory. "Ow."

"Tastes like sugar and booze." He slid his arm over Jim's shoulders, and smiled, holding it for him to have another taste if he wanted it. It was hard to tell because he was up and down with the drugs.

It probably wasn't the best idea for him to be drinking, honestly, but they were on holiday and that was what holidays were for. Jim clearly agreed because he leaned on and captured the straw with his lips, giving it a hard suck. "Hmmm."

"Want to see a show or some fish or I'm sure they've got tigers...?" He swallowed, leaning in to nick the straw back for another drink.

Jim's martini glass made its way to a random nearby flat surface, noticeably empty. "Give me." Demanding little shit.

He took a hard suck, and surrendered it to Jim. "Animals in cages it is, then." Mostly he wanted to see if Jim would plaster himself against the glass and try to get it to come over. It seemed highly likely, and Sebastian always did enjoy watching large cats. It brought out fond remembrances, and watching Jim made him pretty damned happy, too. It was all win-win, and he was clearly going to have to buy another of the stupid giant Eiffel Tower things because Jim was sucking at it and clutching it in a grip that said it was his, his, his, his, his.

The sidewalk was full of people but they managed well enough, roaming through and past everything as they made their way down the street. Jim probably knew exactly where they were going, but he let Sebastian lead the way.

His his his. He knew where Sebastian was going, trusted him to get them both there safely. He didn't need to trouble himself with the directions, with the small stuff. Maybe he could get a giant booze cup shaped like a tiger and bait a pickpocket into getting his wrist broken. The fact that he considered that to be a successful and pleasing day certainly said a lot about him, about both of them, he supposed. Didn't matter much, and he reached out, snagged Jim so that he was just a bit closer. When it didn't earn him a smack or a sharp baring of teeth, he relaxed. Mistake, that, because fingers pinched his arse hard, and when he glanced down, Jim was nothing more than pure innocence.

"Watch it, sweetheart, I might try to see if the tigers want company in the cage," he murmured, squeezing his fingers tightly on Jim's shoulders. There were too many people in Vegas, but they blended away to nothing at the same time. They were ordinary. They could be anyone at all, and neither of them had to worry about Mycroft fucking Holmes or being recognised because it was Las Vegas. There were so many other people providing distraction, walking lizards down the street on leashes, handing out cards for clubs full of naked women, and a truly bizarre number of impersonators. The Michael Jackson one had made Jim twitch for some reason.

Probably the nose.

"You like me too much to toss me to the tigers."

"I like tigers as a species too much to toss you to the tigers," he countered, bracing himself for Jim punching him in the side before the blow hit. "Ow." He felt obligated to make the noise, and it got him a bright look from Jim's dark eyes, and then a smile, and god, that felt good. He wasn't bored just yet, not looking for something to steal or destroy, but that time was inevitably coming. He still had a while to buffer himself between then and what was coming. They'd had ups and downs and problems, and most days he was sure that they made each other worse, but that bright look, fuck. It took it all away, the urge he had to sometimes scream obscenities at people he didn't know because they'd gotten too fucking close to him.

The thing about the casinos was there was usually enough room to manoeuvre around inside without feeling crushed and cramped in. The streets were another thing.

It was obvious that he wasn't the only one bothered by all of the people, the way they were too close, the way that they pushed in just a bit too tightly. Jim was behaving more like Jim, but he was also going out of his way to find spaces in the crowd, to step away from the chaos, and he dragged Sebastian with him when he did.

Getting to the casino was the hard part. It all opened up again once they were there, gave him room to breathe as they stopped and tried to figure out where the tigers were. There were dolphins on the way, and Jim seemed pretty fascinated by them; they were just in time to watch them be fed, so even the promise of tigers wasn't enough to drag him past that. Afterwards, it was simple enough to wander through and find the big cats. Three of them -- caged and contained, sure, but they also didn't seem to give a fuck. They were pampered and well fed, and some human was entertaining them.

Sebastian pressed against the glass, and remembered being knee deep in vegetation in the Himalayas. It was a gorgeous memory, and he leaned there watching for a while. Kids wandered past, adults, he didn't much care, and Jim leaned back with him, sucking steadily on the straw of his gigantic drink.

"We're going hiking sometime," he declared, leaning back a hand still pressed against the glass.

"Ugh." Jim made a face, which wasn't unexpected. He hated getting filthy unless there was a profit involved, but he would do it if Sebastian wanted. That was nice to know.

"You'll love it. Lots of interesting geographical features to it." Lots of places to hide bodies in the wilderness, comfortable, lovely wilderness. He turned his head, kissed Jim's neck, and Jim turned into him, tilted his head just a bit so that Sebastian could do it a little more. It was easy, and when Sebastian pulled away, Jim turned and caught his mouth, kissing him with a sort of vicious passion before he pulled away from him just a bit.

His nose was still wrinkled, but Sebastian could tell that he was going to let him have what he wanted. "Oh, fine."

"I promise to cover you in sunscreen and get you a camelbak." And make sure he was sober when they went. It was very possible that they might manage to pull together a new, interesting life out there.

"And anything else I want," Jim demanded, and yeah. Yeah, he'd get him anything he wanted.

"Anything else you want."

They weren't tigers in a cage anymore. They were free-roaming again, and the world had no idea what they were in for.


End file.
